


gettin' kinda outta my head

by theroadverytravelled



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Fluff, Friends to Lovers, Friendship, Liam-centric, M/M, Slow Burn, handwringing about boys and dating, the slowest burn because i'm a nightmare
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-02
Updated: 2015-09-02
Packaged: 2018-04-18 14:34:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 25,285
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4709549
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/theroadverytravelled/pseuds/theroadverytravelled
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Prompt: <i>Liam is a cute, single guy who thinks himself rather boring, but he’s happy that way, content to be alone. At least, he thinks he is. Until his meddling sisters make it their mission to find him a boyfriend. (Think Because I Said So movie fusion.)</i></p><p>Or: a meandering self-discovery slow-burn where Liam explores himself and his singledom, making friends and kissing boys along the way.</p>
            </blockquote>





	gettin' kinda outta my head

**Author's Note:**

  * For [FallingLikeThis](https://archiveofourown.org/users/FallingLikeThis/gifts).



> To my prompter: because of my terrible time-management, I couldn't give this fic as much time as it deserved to steep and really marinate, but I hope you like even just some bits of it. The main pairing in this fic is Lirry, but mostly I just wanted to write Liam as a babe and a babe magnet and hopefully that comes across and each relationship has their own weight. 
> 
> Nothing in this fic is researched! It also hasn't been britpicked, and all mistakes are mine. Thank you to my dearest [di](http://archiveofourown.org/users/dinosaur/pseuds/dinosaur) for all their help, suggestions and time spent on this, holding my hand, Whatsapping me as I freaked out and flailed and thought I couldn't hand something in. You are all over this fic, next time I'll write one more worthy. Thank you also to Laura for stepping in to read bits of it and give their input and thank you so much to the mods for putting up with me and for all their hard work! 
> 
> Title is from Carly Rae Jepsen's Favourite Colour.

Checking your work email two seconds before you’re about to leave, bag packed and strapped across your chest, is a fool’s errand. Liam knows this, because he’s a fool and he does it everyday before leaving work. It’s become a weird habit, so he doesn’t even flinch when he sees two new messages fresh and bright and unread at the top of his inbox. 

The office is filled with the low-humming din of people pushing away from their desks and saying goodbye, but Liam sinks soundlessly back to his chair and starts typing with one hand, the other pulling his bag strap over his head. The clock shows a few minutes after 5.30, and he figures he can finish up by 6.30, 7 at the most. He thinks of his plans for the night - gym, dinner, home to feed Ralph, skype with Zayn - and mentally adds an extra hour to everything, figures he can cut dinner by half, text Zayn on the Tube, make it to bed by midnight, maybe. And tomorrow’s Saturday anyway, and it’s better he gets this done instead of knowing he’ll be coming to it first thing on Monday. His fingers fly over his keyboard and mouse, the whole thing rote in a numb way that’s almost soothing. 

A stack of sticky notes hits his face. 

“Liam,” A sharp voice cuts across the length of their medium-sized office, from over the desks of the editorial team to where Liam’s sitting in Marketing. He bites the inside of his cheek, knows already what’s coming. 

“You better not be doing what I think you’re doing,” Jesy comes over and leans against the partition that splits his cubicle from Mark, her thick hair piled in a tumble on top of her head, held up by at least three pencils from what he can see. He’s long held a secret suspicion that Jesy keeps half the stationery cupboard up there. Her heavy-lashed eyes glare at him from behind a pair of cat-eye frames. 

“Uh, I’m not doing anything,” He says innocently, fingers still typing even as he smiles up at her. Jesy doesn’t miss that, swats at his hands and mashes her own fingers across the keys, ruining his well composed email. 

“Emailing on a Friday night, is what! And not even about sexy stuff! Don’t let me catch you staying here until 8 again - it’s the weekend, Liam!” She swats his arm a bit more for effect.

“I was going to leave at 7!” 

“As if that’s any better!” She whips around to peer over his shoulder at his screen. “Who is this? That bloody start-up bloke asking for more fancy adjectives in his copy? What a tosser.” 

For someone who works in HR, Jesy’s potentially the bluntest person he knows when it comes to people. She doesn’t thaw easy, she doesn’t impress easy, and she suffers no fools (and Liam knows this, because he’s a fool). Although to be fair, the start-up bloke is a bit of a tosser. He’s emailed Liam to ask if they can make one of the ads for his new app include the word “effervescent” — which isn’t even under marketing. 

Liam pulls up his other email window. “Okay but look, Cazza’s asked me for something too and she’s not a tosser.” Their boss is much beloved in the office, no-nonsense but kind and fiercely loyal and motherly. It’s also no secret she’s got soft spots for all four of the HR girls, Jesy among them. 

“She isn’t, which is probably why she wrote —” Jesy stabs a manicured finger at the screen, “‘This isn’t urgent, love. If you could get to it Monday that’d be great!’ Right then, Payne — what are your weekend plans?” 

She whirls him around in his chair, wheeling him none too gently away from his computer as she bends down to close his windows. Liam has to grip at his armrests to stop himself from stopping her, knowing he’s lost this battle. Jesy turns to him expectantly, hand on the mouse. Liam exhales. 

“Family dinner tomorrow — Mum’s asked me to help with groceries and help dad a bit around the house before, too,” This earns him a quick smile, Jesy turning around fully to face him once she’s shut his computer off. 

“And Sunday?”

Liam hums, the darkening computer screen allowing him to ease back into his chair. Nothing to be done now, anyway. “Probably go for a run in the park in the morning. Laundry. Nic’s just moved to a new place, got all this IKEA furniture.”

“And you’re going to be her handyman,” Jesy softens even more, looking like she’s having a hard time keeping the smile playing on her lips down. Liam shies away from her gaze, feeling suddenly like he’s in Year 6 again, catching the attention of the Year 12s. 

“You really are very sweet, Liam Payne,” It’s very nearly a murmur, and Liam just catches it before Jesy shakes herself to stand taller, eyes sharpening again. “And tonight? You’re leaving the office in about 5 minutes —” Oh so that’s decided then, “— where are you going to go?” He doesn’t get to answer before Jesy jumps in again, “Me and the girls have a karaoke booth downtown with our names on it, and if I have you backing me up to beatbox, it’ll be legends. Like at the Christmas party!”

Jesy never lets him forget the Christmas party a few months ago, bringing it up every chance she gets. He feels his cheeks heat up, remembering how tipsy he’d let himself get, how easily Jesy dragged him to the little karaoke machine in the corner by the meeting rooms, put some Destiny’s Child on, and suddenly they broke it down in the middle with a beatbox duet, to the delight of the entire office. He hardly remembers how he got his mouth to work, but Jesy remembers. Cazza, Mark, Leigh-Anne, Jade, Pez — everyone remembers. 

Liam shakes his head, sheepish, moving to get up and gather his bag again. “Sounds really fun, Jes — I’ve got to feed Ralph, though. And pick up some things for home on the way,” He shuffles around her, pushing up his sleeves, playing with the buttons of his vest, patting down his pockets. “You’ll kill it without me, yeah? I’m sure I’ll see the proof on Instagram.” He hates saying no to Jesy mainly because he does it a lot, and she’s usually none too pleased about it. When he braves himself enough to shoot her a slightly strained smile though, she’s got her lips puckered a little to the side, looking thoughtful. After a beat, she nods. 

“You likely will. Learn a little something from my technique. For next time.” She winks at him, and Liam knows he’s forgiven. “Alright, say hello to the old boy for me. Give ‘im a little kiss.” She smacks her own kiss to Liam’s cheek before walking away. “See you Monday!” 

Liam waves at her on his way out. It’s not until he’s in the Tube, swaying against the rattling movement of the carriage and staring a little at his reflection in the darkened windows that he notices the faint coral shimmer on his cheekbones. He blushes again, but he smiles at it, waiting until he’s back on the street to wipe it off with a tissue. 

\+ 

There’s a counting game Liam plays when he’s back home with his family. Six bus stops from the train station. Two kisses per cheek from his mum at the door. Two dogs rushing to him from the kitchen. The hallway clock permanently stopped at 6:18. Skipping a step four steps up the stairs, to avoid the creak. Five screwdrivers in his father’s toolbox, mismatched handles. Three shell-shaped soaps in the blue dish in the downstairs bathroom. Seven placemats on the dinner table. And eight chairs. 

It’s these last two that always gets him in trouble. The dining table’s the same one from when he was a kid — only ever half filled for their nightly dinners, just his mum and dad, Ruth, Nic, and him. It was great for school projects and puzzles with their Nan. But now there’s two seats filled by Nick and Tom, his sister’s boyfriends, and everyone’s got a significant other to face. Except for him. Which — Liam’d happily eat with Loki on the floor in the kitchen, he doesn’t much care what he looks at when he’s eating his roast, but it’s his luck that his mum cares. Very, very much. 

He usually gets a couple weeks between comments, but from the way his mum’s been misting up just looking at him, sighing every other breath as she moves around the kitchen, staring at him when she thinks he won’t notice, he knows he’s in for it. It’s when he catches her whispering with Ruth after he’s set the table that he decides a couple beers with the lads in the den might help. 

“Isn’t this nice, all of us home together?” Karen’s beaming down the table at her brood settling in, her hands clasped in front of her. Liam’s subtly positioned himself by Geoff’s right hand instead of by the other end near his mum, and tries to ignore the new weight growing in his stomach. Three beers in, two hours to go. 

Nic pipes up from where she’s putting a napkin on her lap. “Spread looks good, mum! Did I see a trifle in the fridge, earlier? Can’t wait for that.”

“Tom, can you start passing round the veg, love? Hush now Nicola, always two steps ahead of everyone else, take your time with what’s in front of you.” 

Nic catches Liam’s eye from across the table, expression flat, and Liam hides a grin in his shoulder. It’s such a pointless weird mum thing to say, bless. “Sorry everyone, for being too excited for the trifle and letting it distract me from appreciating the present to the full.” 

“It was meant to be a surprise for Liam, is all, there’s no need for —” Liam hides his cough in a snort, trying not to beam back at Nic’s wicked grin, while Ruth places a placating hand on Karen’s, Nick kicking Liam from his right on her behalf. He feels a bit lighter after that, a little more excited to make a moat of gravy in his mash and eat some chicken. 

“Mum, I’m gonna love the trifle, and I’m gonna love this roast, don’t you worry. It all looks amazing, let’s eat.” 

Karen still looks a little miffed, but a soppy look grows on her face as everyone picks up their forks and knives and starts in, the table buzzing with passing plates and salt shakers and pouring drinks into glasses and sweet please’s and thank you’s. “It really is always so nice to have you all here — makes the house feels full.” Liam ignores that she says this while looking right at him.

“When we’re a bit more settled in, we’ll have to have everyone over at ours for family dinner,” Tom says, smiling wide as Nic ruffles his hair. “Get my clan in as well, really fill the flat.” 

“Oh that’d be lovely. A housewarming dinner.”

“I reckon we could fit a few of your gang as well, Nick. We’ll just get Liam to put together a few more tables when he comes over tomorrow.” 

“Oh, nice!” Nic’s pulling a silly face at him, and he grins back. “Why don’t I build you a new extension while I’m at it, put in a deck on the balcony for barbecues?”

“This is your lot in life, little brother. You really should be at peace with it by now.” 

“Nicola’s right,” Ruth chimes in, smug and obvious. 

Liam throws his hands up, trying to frown. “‘Course you’d think that — no one’s on my side! Dad, they’re ganging up on me.” 

Geoff smiles, shaking his head down at his plate. “A barbecue would be quite nice, eh? When the weather’s warmer.” 

“Dad! Bloody hell, you’d think I could count on a Payne man!” 

There are smiles all round the table, Ruth reaching over Nick to squeeze Liam’s arm, her face fond. Liam feels Watson’s wet snout snuffling at his feet and his heart loosens, opens up to the warmth of being here. The chatter flows easy, washing over him like a soft blanket.

It doesn't quite last. “Love, you know we’ve always got that spare seat if you need to bring anyone home, someone to stand up against your sisters, maybe,” There’s a laugh in her voice, but the slight wrinkle in her brow gets Liam’s gut twisting again. They all tease his mum for being soft, but they also all know she can be a bit like a dog with a bone when it comes to certain things. “Someone from work, maybe. Any new friends…” She trails off, and Liam knows she expects him to fill in the blanks, but his mouth feels dry. He scoops vegetables and chicken into it for something to do. 

“How’s Jesy? The one who works in your HR department, yeah? You’ve told us about her before,” Nick tactfully takes a sip from his water glass as Ruth looks over to him again, keen. She’s been scheming with mum, then. 

“Oh, she’s that really pretty one, isn’t she? Nicola, you showed me her photos on Facebook, didn’t you?” 

Nicola grimaces at him, apologetic, “We’ve got a few friends in common, it turns out. Bit too cool for you, eh, Liam? Saw a pic of her riding a motorbike.” Karen looks a bit scandalized by this, but not deterred. Wasn’t a half bad effort from Nic, but — dog with a bone. 

He takes a deep breath and a swallow of water before answering. “All the girls in HR are a bit too cool for me, I reckon. And they’re all pretty.” He may be damning himself, but it’s all true. 

“Have they got boyfriends then?” 

“Um, not sure. Jesy might, actually.”

Karen lights up at this. “Well then you’ll have to tell us about the other three!” 

“Mum, Liam probably doesn’t want to talk about work. Lord knows I wouldn’t.” 

Karen’s face changes as she catches the slight warning tone in Nic’s voice, “This isn’t really about _work_ , though! Oh — if there’s a boy instead! Who’s that one who sits next to you, Liam - Mark, was it?” Bless his mum, Liam thinks. Bless, bless, bless.

“Isn’t Mark married with a kiddo? You were telling us about his daughter at your work’s Christmas party. I think?” 

Tom’s questions are duly ignored, Karen cutting through them with a steady determination. “Your whole office is just young, fit, professionals isn’t it though, sweetheart? All these city girls — and boys! Huge pool of possibilities, don’t you all reckon?” 

“There’s good people everywhere though, mum,” Liam forgets his mum’s determination must’ve gone somewhere, and he figures most of it went to Ruth, whose eyes are gleaming with something cunning. “Weren’t you telling me earlier — your friend’s son, the banker? And Liam, remember Maddy from school? Her sister’s started up this new bakery in town, she might need some help getting word out there about her business, market it a bit better. And she’s single.”

This old tune. To his left, Geoff looks at Liam like he’s sorry for him, but he stays stoically silent. 

“What’s wrong with wanting to introduce him to some _nice_ , new people?” He hears Karen voice quiver in response to a whisper from Nic. He looks down at his plate. Eight peas, a spoon and a half of mash, a quarter of a chicken breast. 

When he looks up Karen’s crying a bit, which is familiar but still alarming. She dabs at her eyes with her napkin, emotional. “You’d make anyone happy, sweetheart, that’s all I think. And I just want you to be happy.” 

He probably should get up and hug her, and he might still do, but Liam feels glued to his seat. He wonders if he can skip out on doing the dishes after. “I _am_ happy, mum. I’m fine. Don’t cry.” It’s a bit late, but he says it anyway, leaving it to Ruth to ply Karen with more tissues and Nic to discreetly top up her wineglass and guide it to her hand. Tom and Nick give him matching grimaces, returning to their plates. 

There’s probably an hour left before they all have to start getting back to their own homes. Liam can’t help but think ahead to next week. Seven placemats. Still eight chairs and a mother with two eyes too keen on keeping track of that. 

Liam takes a deep breath. There’s still trifle in the fridge. 

+

Liam hears Niall before he sees him, which has been the case long before they were even formally introduced. The only difference is now, Liam doesn’t bother trying to make himself scarce at the sound of ringing laughter, no longer nervous about a little conversation with his jovial neighbour. 

“Payno!” There’s a clap on his back and Liam grins at the nickname, one Niall came up with and started using of his own volition. Repeatedly. Liam likes it well enough, he must admit. At least out of Niall’s mouth, which has the ability to turn anything affectionate and welcoming. He turns away from his small mailbox so he can be pulled into a tight hug, which he’s learned to expect. 

“Good to see you, Nialler.” Niall’s blue eyes are bright when he pulls back, pleased. Liam had come up with that one in a moment of panic, but it turned out to be what all Niall’s friends called him anyway. 

“Am I catchin’ ya after the gym?” Niall sticks his nose very quickly into Liam’s neck and it speaks to how quickly Niall disarms people that Liam now only laughs at being tickled. “You smell too nice!” 

“There are showers at the gym I go to. It’s fully equipped, and that.” 

Niall scrunches up his nose at Liam’s teasing tone, terribly pleased. Liam probably can’t blame this overt reaction to something so simple. Niall spent six months being a friendly and persistent next door neighbour only to get monosyllabic mumbles and hurriedly closed doors in reply. When Liam first strung a whole sentence together in Niall’s presence, he was sure he had never seen a brighter smile. It was a little dazzling. 

Liam shakes his head. “Back from a family dinner, actually. Gotta scrub up for the folks, you know how it is.” 

Niall takes a quick peek into his own mailbox, pulling out a few envelopes. “Well, since you’re smelling so nice and looking alright, fancy having a pint with me? Me and a few mates, I mean. We’ll be meetin’ up in a half hour — pub’s not far.” 

Liam feels his muscles tense involuntarily. He thinks he’s close to saying yes to one of Niall’s offers, but it’s been a long day, and after that dinner all he can think about is being by himself. Saying goodbye to his mum had drained any energy he would have had out of him and he needs to recharge. He buys himself a few extra seconds readjusting the buckles of his messenger bag, thinking back to past excuses, trying to pick one that’s the most seamless, least offensive, most believable. 

“I —” 

“Look at me, off the mark — probably got your own plans, hey? Saturday night and all,” Niall claps his hand on Liam again, eyebrows waggling but his eyes kind. Liam feels a lump in his throat as Niall squeezes his shoulder gently. A release. A graceful exit. 

“Maybe next time.” 

“Yeah, next time!” There’s not a hint of anything but lightness in Niall’s voice. “Ya headed up? Mind stuffing these under the door for me? Gonna get a head start, I reckon.” 

Liam takes the envelopes, clutches them in his hands. “Yeah, ‘course. No worries.” 

“Owe you me life! Have a good night, Payno!” 

“You too, Nialler.” 

The front door of their building swings shut behind him, and after one last smile Niall is gone. Liam inhales deeply, looking down at the mail in his hand. He exhales in a soft gust before he turns to get the lift up to their floor. 

It’s only when he locks the door carefully behind him that Liam finally feels fully relaxed. He sets his stuff down by the table near the door, walks around carefully to turn on all the lights. He pulls the curtains closed in the living room, pokes his head into Ralph’s tank to say hi, the turtle swimming up to the surface to poke his head right back at Liam. Liam spends a good 15 minutes readjusting Ralph’s heat lamp, checking the tank, the filter, feeding his little guy, the routine familiar and satisfying. 

Next he goes to the kitchen, putting away the few dishes and cups from breakfast this morning into their proper drawers and cupboards. On his way out, he passes his small table in what passes for a dining area in his flat, a small area like an elbow joining one end of his kitchen and the living room. His keyboard and mixing table is where he left it, loose papers strewn next to it from the song he was working on last night. His guitar sits on the chair across the table like an expectant guest. Liam lingers with his fingers on the knobs, and he thinks — short work out to shake dinner off, shower, change into his pyjamas, call Zayn. The list calms him, like piecing himself back together. 

By the time he settles into the sofa with his laptop, he’s closer to feeling good and when Zayn’s face comes up on screen, he relishes the feel of a big smile pushing at his cheeks. 

Liam’s had a standing Skype date with Zayn for — well, definitely longer than he’s known anyone in town. They had met online, on some message boards about Chris Brown (embarrassing), and after many emails, messages, chats and phone calls later, Liam found himself with a best friend. It’s not something he’s ever had before, and it surprises him still to have this steady presence in his life, checking in every day from Manchester, following him along on this weird unwieldy road of adulthood. He wonders that he’s only met Zayn a few times in real life, but Zayn feels more real than the people he sees everyday. 

“What’ve you been up to, then? Family dinner tonight, wasn’t it?” 

His heavy sigh in reply makes Zayn’s eyebrows knit together. “Uh oh. What happened, Li?” 

Liam scrubs his face with his hands, hit with the memory of the irritation he felt from earlier. “Ruth and mum have been at it again, that’s all. Mum cried a bit — which is like, every dinner, but you know. It’s not pleasant.” 

“Aw, babe,” Zayn’s voice is soft and concerned. “You bothered by it, like? You’re pretty used to deflecting that stuff.”

“I know. I’m used to it, I’m just… I’m tired of it,” Liam takes a deep breath. He shrugs at Zayn and tries make his face normal again. “Wish they’d see I’m fine. Take me at my word, you know?” 

Zayn nods, exhaling as they push their fringe out of their eyes. Their hair’s grown out a lot even though it was only just last month Zayn’s declared their new year’s resolution was to join the long hair squad. Liam scrubs his own short quiff, always neat and trimmed, and wonders at the difference. 

“Yeah, I know. The worst of it is, it’s coming from a good place. Like with my mum and aunties.” The sentence ends on a bit of a groan, and Liam picks up the cue. 

“Okay, your turn then — what’ve they been up to now?” 

“They’ve been trying to be… supportive, like. But that’s been like, mum trying to do girl talk with me, like I’m Waliyha crushing on some boy at school. She’s been trying to set me up with all the gay cousins in our family.”

“Ruth pulled out a banker son of one of mum’s friends, and also an old schoolmate’s sister. She’s opening a bakery, and she’s _single_.” 

Zayn laughs at Liam’s sarcastic tone. Liam thinks to the one time he met Trish on a trip to Manchester, the sparkly eyed fondness she kept showering on Zayn so familiar, comforting then to witness, a little discomfiting now to recall. He thinks Trish would probably get along ace with his mum, provided they stocked up on enough tissues beforehand. 

On screen, Zayn’s resting their chin on their folded arms, eyes closing again. “She’s trying to get it, so I can’t really be too mad, y’know? I barely know what I am most days, so I can’t blame her for not knowing either.”

Liam hums, not really knowing what else to say to that but also knowing well enough now to know that Zayn doesn’t really need him to say anything. If he were there though, with Zayn, he might run a warm hand across their shoulders, squeeze down and into the tightness of trying to hold so many frayed parts together in the same skin. 

Zayn shakes out their limbs, rising again. “My aunt’s gonna help me dye my hair, though. Might do some other fun stuff to it.” 

“That’s exciting! What colour are you gonna dye it?” 

“Dunno. Might go rainbow. Bet mum would be all for it.” 

“Bet she would, you’d look really good with rainbow hair.”

“We’ll see next week. Prepare yourself for selfies.”

“One can never prepare for your selfies.” 

Zayn’s eyes crinkle at this, tongue tucked behind their teeth as they smile, and Liam feels warmth flood his heart. He wishes he could explain this to Ruth and his mum, that this is part of what he means when he says he’s happy. 

“What else has been going on with you? I’ve got to work on my portfolio so I need you to distract me.” 

“Naughty. Well — I blew off two people two nights in a row! Nowhere near a record, but certainly consistent.” 

“Bah, going out! Overrated. Who was this, people at work? Those HR minxes trying to get you to be the 5th Spice Girl again?” 

“Zayn, you know I’d make a good Sporty Spice.” 

“Always pegged you as Baby, myself, but I suppose we can agree to disagree.”

Liam grins. “Yeah, Jesy asked me out to karaoke. Then Niall asked me to the pub just before.” 

“Ooooh.” Zayn’s eyes light up, amused. They lean their cheek against a closed fist, elbow against the soft surface of their bed. With Zayn’s fringe falling into their eyes, it very nearly looks like they’re falling asleep but Liam’s not fooled. He’s had many years to parse what Zayn’s pixels mean. Zayn’s intrigued, which means Liam’s in trouble. 

“You sure he wasn’t, asking you out, like?” 

“What, like — out to what?” Zayn waggles their eyebrows and Liam feels a click. “Zayn, no. Weren’t we just talking about how I was hounded by my family about my love life? I really don’t have anyone on my side.” 

He falls back against the cushions, folding his arms and pouting. Zayn giggles into their hands, and it’d be adorable if Liam didn’t feel entirely ganged up on. By his family! By his best friend! By the universe!

“Babe, no — I’m sorry. I know, I know, I’m not trying to be a pain. You and Niall are just friends, I remember. He’s a good neighbour, and he’s always been real nice to you, _and_ he’s well fit.”

“Zayn!” 

Zayn tips sideways onto their bed, laughing at Liam’s outrage. “What! He is! You were there when we looked him up on Facebook! I’m just stating facts!”

“I know I was! I’m not arguing about him being fit, everyone I know is fit — Niall, Jesy, you. It’s just not hugely relevant to me, is it?” Zayn’s huffing soft laughter into his duvet, and Liam straightens up. “Unless it’s particularly relevant to you, to keep talking about how fit Niall is.” 

There’s a silent pause, where Zayn doesn’t lift their head up from the bed, and Liam can’t see their face. He waits it out, smiling. Zayn finally gets up, face serene and a little vague. 

“I’m just an objective observer, like. An admirer of aesthetics.” 

Liam rolls his eyes, but he doesn’t push it. “Alright, speaking of aesthetics, talk to me about your portfolio.” His laugh rides clear over Zayn’s groan. “Walk me through every little thing.”

+

The following week is brutal. It’s all work — start-up guy sends an email early Monday asking for an overhaul of their marketing strategy, and new pitches for the campaign, necessitating rounds of meetings and tight deadlines for both Liam’s department and editorial. Another client sends a terse scolding email about something that was nobody’s fault. Mark falls ill and has to take a couple days off which adds on to Liam’s work load. By the end of Wednesday, the stretch of the week’s already well past tolerable. Walking out of from the packed foyer of his office, he feels wrung out and ready to be absorbed by his bed. He thinks of all the things he has to do tonight — go to the gym, shower, feed Ralph, speak to Zayn, clean the house a bit, work on his song. 

He almost falls asleep right there on the street. He bumps into someone who tells him off, and he only just manages to mumble sorry through a mouth that feels suddenly filled with cotton wool. At that moment his stomach grumbles and he thinks maybe tonight the only thing he can manage is: _feed self._

Tesco is too bright, and too loud, but Liam still finds himself asleep on his feet, shuffling along with a half full basket he periodically throws something into. Eventually he ends up at the frozen foods aisle, staring at a wall of pizzas. That seems like the easiest thing. 

Pepperoni or Hawaiian? Chicken or beef? Barbeque or spicy tandoori? He should probably get something with some semblance of veg involved. Peppers. No, mushrooms. Is pineapple a vegetable? No, Liam, it’s a fruit, you idiot. 

“Ah, right then, what’s on?” 

Liam flickers back to life enough to drag his gaze away from the frosted front of the fridge to the person who’s appeared next to him. The stranger looks immensely comfortable in trackies and a well-worn grey and black hoodie, brown hair rumpled and sticking up in all directions, like he’s just rolled out of bed. He glances at Liam sidelong and grins. Liam suddenly feels like yawning and falling asleep on his shoulder, but catches himself. 

“S-Sorry?” 

Hoodie doesn’t answer, just turns back to the fridge, frowning a little. He’s got his own basket at his feet and he points an accusatory finger at the fridge. “Seen this a billion times, innit? Same old tired story — greasy pepperoni and cheese in front of the telly, crumbs on your sofa for days, box rots in your kitchen for weeks.” 

Liam takes the bins out every Thursday for collection, but says nothing as Hoodie goes on,“Let’s change the channel, find something better.” 

The stranger picks up his basket and grabs Liam by the elbow to pull him down the aisle. Liam’s still in half a stupor, and he follows along dumbly before they end up in front of another fridge. Hoodie smiles bright at Liam’s befuddled face, showing all his teeth. Liam turns to survey the contents of this new fridge. 

“Ice cream! Bit of a plot twist, ice cream for dinner, people don’t expect it. Gets ‘em excited. Think of the options — sundae, chocolate syrup, ice cream sandwich — you ever eaten it with chips? One of my sisters likes melting it into soup, which sounds disgusting but isn’t half bad, really. Could do a Coke float, could —” 

“Eat it in front of the telly, drips on the sofa for days, sticky tub rots in your kitchen for weeks.” 

Hoodie’s eyebrows shoot right up to his hairline, but his smile grows bigger, curving up in surprise. 

“A pessimist! You too good for ice cream then?” He squares his shoulders and juts his chin forward as if he’s bracing for a fight, and Liam can’t help but think he looks properly adorable. 

“You too good for pizza?” His brain flickers fast enough to formulate the response, but Liam struggles to figure out the balance between challenging and joking, and ends up mumbling a little. Hoodie’s smile just grows even brighter, his eyes crinkling in the corners. He pats Liam on the back twice, nodding in approval. 

“There’s a lad! A questioner. I like that. ‘m Louis, by the way.” 

Louis in the hoodie. Liam’s hand finds his way to Louis’s, and he nods a few beats after, absorbing it. “Liam. I’m sorry, mate — I’m, I’m a bit tired? So I’m not all here right now.” 

“Both of us shouldn’t be here at all, I think. Be honest, Liam,” Louis casually leans against Liam, resting a hand on his shoulder, “You were gonna go home, pop that frozen pizza in the oven, then fall face first into an unsatisfying meal. I’m gonna tell you — I’ve got some better options.” 

Liam has a moment of clarity in his sleepy stupor, looking now at this complete stranger (name or no name, ice cream vs pizza preferences aside) he’s suddenly listening to, and wonders vaguely what the hell is going on. Who talks like this to random people in Tesco aisles? Who gets people talking to him this easily? 

It’s the second question that Liam gets really stuck on as he holds back a yawn and tries to will himself to be more awake. Louis’s hand is a sure weight on him and Liam finds he doesn’t mind it there.

“Hey, Liam.” 

He refocuses, find Louis still smiling at him, but with a concerned edge to his gaze. 

“You’re looking like you might actually fall face first now, mate. I was gonna suggest going to a burger place just up the road, wanna come? Might wake you up some.” 

About twenty minutes later, Liam’s devouring a double cheeseburger, alternating between bites of burger and bites of hot chips, and he feels about 80% more awake. Louis is massacring his own burger, and they eat in companionable silence at the counter until there’s only smears of sauce and bits of lettuce on both their plates, the only chips left the over-fried small nubs that they pick at. Louis is swinging his legs in his chair next to Liam, sucking on the straw of his Coke. It’s all a bit awkward now, and Liam isn’t sure what to do. 

“Um. So.” 

“So,” Louis’s smile is still there, a little more lazy and sated. He glances sidelong at Liam. “Did you enjoy the burger? Better than a frozen pizza, yeah?” 

“Yeah, it was. Thanks for that. Uh. I don’t — I don’t normally get strangers asking me to burgers in a Tesco, I’ve never had that happen, actually, but I really needed that. So, uh. Thanks.” Louis nods sagely, as if he already knew. “And. And do you — normally ask strangers out to meals? Like, not on dates or whatever, which is how people normally do that? Uh. I mean like just now, like —” 

“I’m not a serial killer, mate. Promise. Although, maybe that’s what a serial killer would say. Huh. Would it help if I told you that I’m just a regular bloke, who rolled out of the house cause I had munchies, and saw you swaying there in Tesco, and felt like having a little fun?” 

“Uh. Right,” Liam’s not sure how he feels about being ‘a little fun’ for someone to have, but he’s full and alive and Louis so far hasn’t been an arse to him, so he guesses it’s worked out fine. “Where do you live then, nearby?” 

Louis taps his nose, winking. “Smart, collecting information in case you’ve got to report me to the police. I live a few streets away. This Tesco has better snacks than the one nearer to my flat. I’m also 25, I work as a nanny. Came out of drama school —” Here Louis scoffs at himself, making Liam frown a little. “Did a year of auditioning and shit plays and improv. Made no money. Figured it was time for a new plan.” 

“Oh,” Liam cups his hands around the sweating paper cup of his own drink. “What’s being a nanny like? How old are the kids you look after?” 

Louis smiles, eyes casting downwards quickly to the zipper of his jacket before he looks at Liam again. “We-eeell, it’s pretty shit when one of them starts the day cranky and kicks and fusses and gets sick on your shirt and breaks something and gets hurt and throws a tantrum in the park.” Liam’s so far away from the reality of having kids — nobody he knows has them, other than his older relatives — so he can’t even imagine having to deal with all that in a day. “But then one of them says you’re magic for making them a spaceship out of a box and gives you a drawing of a dinosaur, and cuddles with their stuffed monkey and calls it puppy, and it’s pretty ace. I look after two, Kavitha’s 6, and Danny’s 4. Been with them since Danny was 2.” 

“Oh wow. That’s… ” Liam doesn’t know what it is, so he blurts out, “I’ve got a turtle!” 

Louis blinks twice before he bursts out laughing, doubled over and gripping the counter with both hands. “I hope that isn’t a euphemism? Or maybe I do, christ.” 

Liam bites the inside of his cheek, feeling a touch giddy at seeing Louis so tickled. “No, I mean — all I’ve ever had to look after is a few pet turtles and my family’s dogs. It’s amazing to think of looking after like, two little human beings.” 

Louis shakes with the last of his giggles, a hand on his stomach as if to hold them in, but he nods. “Yeah, it’s bloody terrifying half the time, having to keep them alive until their parents come home. But I have five little sisters and a little brother, the youngest are still babies. So keeping them alive is one of my very few skills.” There’s that scoff again, edgy and soft both. 

“It’s a really important skill.” 

“Yeah, well. Right, have you got enough dirt on me? Can you tell me what you do, now? I’ve got some guesses.” 

“Um, I’m in marketing? For a — a kind of PR and advertising company,” Nobody’s ever more than mild and polite to Liam when he tells them what he does for a living, so he’s sure the answer’s a bit boring for Louis. The thought at the back of his mind is always that it’s a miracle he ended up in such a white-collar job coming from a pretty blue-collar family, but he doesn’t know if that would make his job more interesting or his conversations more uncomfortable. 

“Oh, huh. I was gonna guess accountant.” 

Liam lets out a guffaw. “Should I be offended by that? I’m a bit rubbish at maths, so I’ll choose to be flattered.”

Louis swivels in his seat so that he fully faces Liam, and his head is tilted to the side as if he’s considering something. It’s a pretty thorough gaze, and Liam’s not too sure what to do with his hands while Louis finishes looking. He’s not known what this evening has been about since he left the office. 

Finally, Louis nods sharp, once, as if deciding something. “Do you like footy, Liam?” 

“Oh. Yeah, I do. Played a bit in school, still go to a few matches with my dad when we get the chance.” He feels nervous and he doesn’t know why, doesn’t know if it’s because of this night of continuous curveballs or if it’s because of the little purse of Louis’s lips, like he’s keeping a secret. 

“Well, then — I’ve got a match on this Saturday with a few mates. Wanna come?” 

+

_sry I didnt reply yr texts! only just getting home now_

_that’s alright, babes. used our protocol for no shows. for the first time ever , I have to say ;) stayed late at work?_

_not rly… u gunna b online for the next couple hrs?_

_yeah sure. I’m just finishing up a commission piece. bloody shading. what’s up?_

_smthing super weird just happened_

+

Liam’s still freaking out about whatever happened with Louis when he gets to his building, choosing the stairs over the lift to burn some of the anxiety off. He’s been asked out. On a date. On a date? Or not on a date? He said yes. Why did he say yes? He thinks about how it’s probably been a solid month since he last said yes to plans, and that was to celebrate Andy’s new job. A close personal friend he’s known for several years. Not a stranger he’d known for all of three hours. What was happening to him? Was work making him crazy? 

“Whoa there, Payno! Watch out!” Liam collides with Niall in the corridor between their flats, making him drop a small tied plastic bag of rubbish. Niall steadies him at the elbow and Liam’s steadies him back, a knee jerk response. 

“Shit Niall, sorry. Didn’t see you.”

“That’s alright, buddy. You good?” Niall picks up the bag and walks away towards their garbage chute, looking over his shoulder back at Liam. “Lookin’ a little frazzled there.” 

Liam stares at Niall, watches him open the chute and pop the bag in, watches him close it again. There’s the very faint noise of it sliding downwards to the rubbish pile. He feels a little frantic and he doesn’t know why. So, before he can think about it, what comes out of his mouth is, “Nialler, are you free this weekend?” 

Niall scratches at the back of his neck, thinking. “Uh, might have a pint with some friends at some point —” there’s always a pint involved with Niall, Liam’s learned, “— but I think mostly I’ll just be home playin’ FIFA, chillin’. Dead boring, me. What about you, Payno?” 

A second thoughtless pause passes, and another sentence comes tumbling out of Liam. “Want to go to a footy match with me? On Saturday?” His heart’s racing a bit as he says it. It seems like it could be a good idea, but also Liam has no clue what he’s doing. “I got invited to one — no idea how it happened.”

“Are you kidding, mate?” Niall looks delighted, half laughing as he moves back closer to Liam. There’s a split second of panic as Liam worries Niall thinks he’s taking the piss, and then, “I’m there! Love a footy match, sounds ace.” 

Relief floods through Liam, and he feels his shoulders loosen now that he’s not so tense. This is good. Niall’s good at making friends with everyone. He can be a buffer. 

Never mind that he’s never spent more than a few minutes with Niall beyond saying hello in the lift or in the corridor. 

Okay so now he’s scheduled a hang-out date thing with two people he’s never spent time with. He was gonna clean Ralph’s tank this weekend. Right. He needs to talk to Zayn. Zayn will know what this all means. 

“Liam, hey,” Niall’s waving his hand a little in front of Liam’s face, sounding like he’s probably been speaking while Liam’s not been listening. “Mate, you’re looking a bit hunted. Wanna come inside, have a glass of water?” Niall drops his voice to a whisper, leaning in. “Are you speaking in code, are you secretly a spy, does ‘footy match’ mean something else? Blink once for yes, twice for no.” 

A laugh punches out of Liam, a gust of breath released. He shakes his head no. “Uh. I don’t know where to start.” 

“Ah well, I can help you with that,” Niall says magnanimously, dropping his arm across Liam’s shoulders and guiding him towards his flat. He smells of fresh laundry this close. “We start in my kitchen with some water, and maybe in a bit we can move on to some beers.”  
+

Work calms down by Friday, the worst of it over with Mark back at it, and a new campaign plan for the effervescent app drawn up thanks to Liam’s department and editorial pulling a late night on Thursday. Leigh-Anne from HR dropped by Liam’s desk and told him to take a long lunch, Cazza’s orders to everyone, and for once Liam listens. 

He takes a longer walk to one of his favourite cafes a little further away, burying his nose in his scarf against the cold. He gets a window seat, the one that looks out over the small park across the road. It’s a little empty, but he can see a few people walking their dogs, a small little cart selling hot chocolate. 

His mum always told him what a hyper kid he was, and all through school they had to give him something to do to burn off all that energy, every second of the day, tiring out his sisters, his mum, his dad. He was in the school’s running team, he boxed, he swam when he could, he helped his Granddad build things in his workshop, he could never sit still, fidgety in quiet moments. Liam always preferred to be doing something, and it worked out for him - got him through uni, got him through the worst tedious parts of uni that could’ve sunk him if he’d let it, if he didn’t keep doing and doing. 

When he moved to the city though, it was like he’d found his match — found something that moved faster than he did. The consistent beating pulse of it all, of all the other people. It got him to slow down, got him to appreciate a quiet long lunch, a walk for the pleasure of walking, a little bit of a morning lie-in, a free hour just noodling on his keyboard. Munching on his bacon sarnie, Liam feels settled, and he appreciates it. 

In the time it takes him to eat his lunch, the park sees a young couple clearly skiving off school walking hand in hand under the trees in their uniforms, a line of old men walking three abreast, each with a walking stick in hand. There’s a woman pushing a pram that makes him think of Louis, which makes him blush down at his coffee, which makes him feel silly. 

He’d parsed the whole Tesco/burger incident with Zayn and Niall, separately, over Wednesday night and Thursday, through one short but full conversation with Niall in his flat — a lot neater than Liam would initially have thought — and a pile of texts with Zayn, voice notes recorded surreptitiously in the office washroom. Niall was fascinated by Louis and the whole encounter, but also a little bit wary about gatecrashing a date. Zayn was excited for Liam, and also a little bit wary about Liam inviting Niall, who might then be half-wittingly gatecrashing a date. Liam was nervous, because _is it_ a date? He still doesn’t know, and worse still he doesn’t know what to do if it is. But also what if it is and Louis thinks it’s really rude of Liam to have brought a plus one? Zayn had told him to text Louis and ask. Niall had agreed to this plan when Liam told him on Thursday night, interrupting Niall jamming on his guitar while shirtless. 

Liam’s learning a fair bit about Niall and his chest-baring times in the midst of all this, but he’ll have to save his curiosity about the Irishman’s guitar playing skills (Liam’s sure he’s never heard the sounds from his flat, and wonders if Niall has ever heard him) for after he texts Louis. At some point. Soon. 

A large chorus of squeals erupts from the park, and Liam looks up just as he leaves a few notes on his bill. A large group of schoolchildren guided by a man and a woman in bright neon vests — en route from a school trip? — have crowded around a tall-ish figure by the fountain, and Liam sees bursts of colour surrounding the figure. Flowers, maybe? He looks at his watch, sees he’s got about 20 minutes left to his break, and he’s feeling like a cup of hot chocolate and a stroll. 

They’re balloons it turns out. Long noodles of them that the tall figure fills from the tank beside him. He’s a young guy, close to Liam’s age, he guesses, with long curly hair, wearing a leather jacket lined with shearling and the tightest jeans Liam’s seen in a while. On his feet his boots sparkle silver, like the rows of rings on his fingers, which flash fast as he shapes the balloons into a small dog, into a swan crown, into a sword. Liam would not have pegged this bloke as some sort of children’s entertainer, but the kids are loving it, oohing and aahing and clamouring for their own balloon. Maybe this is the new hipster thing. Silver Boots keeps the supply churning at a steady rate, crouching to talk to the little ones, making them laugh. Liam’s on one of the benches surrounding the fountain, not too close but not too far, and just close enough to see the deep dimples of Silver Boots’ smile. He’s fascinating to watch. 

Taking out his phone from his pocket, Liam decides it might be time to bite the bullet and text Louis. He types out a few different sentences and deletes all of them, fretting too much about tone, whether he should be more formal or go casual. Irritation builds as he deletes his fifth one. The nagging voice he’s been wilfully not paying attention to since Wednesday sets up in a corner, smug. Why is it that he cares? Does he even like Louis? Is he just flattered to have had an attractive stranger’s attention? To be asked out, if that’s even what it was? And how sad is that? How desperate. Liam hasn’t been hit on in so long he thinks he’s forgotten how to spot it. The sour memory of Saturday’s dinner — _You’d make anyone happy, sweetheart_ — rises up in his throat like a bad meal. What’s he trying to prove? 

He pockets his phone, feeling suddenly low. He looks up to see that Silver Boots has lost half his crowd as they’re led away by their adult, while a few stay behind with their other chaperone, watching him juggle an apple, an orange, and a lime. A kiwi comes out of his pocket, and the kids cheer. Silver Boots winks, amps it up by doing a little jig. A little too hammy, Liam thinks, but he can’t deny that he’s got the rapt attention of his little audience, and also a few old ladies shooting him fond looks from another bench. 

He’s concentrating harder now, a little bit of tongue stuck out between his teeth as he frowns up at the fast moving cycle of fruit. A banana joins the fray, and Liam thinks that’s probably not the best idea a split second before Boots’ hands slip and the apple bonks him right on the face between the nose before falling to the ground. 

Liam’s gasp-snort echoes throughout the little courtyard, making the older ladies heads turn, and worst of all, catches the attention of Silver Boots, who stares straight at Liam before managing to finish the juggle with a kiwi and orange in one hand and the banana and lime in the other, to a smattering of applause across the park, which Liam doesn’t join because he’s still covering his mouth. Silver Boots takes a deep bow, and bids the children goodbye, sending them off with everything but the apple and the lime. 

When the kids are out of sight, he zeroes right in on Liam, pulling his tank on its wheels behind him. Liam can’t read his face, feels frozen to the bench. He wonders how to explain to Cazza that he got back in from lunch so late because he got into a fight with a juggler in the park. 

“Thought that was funny, eh?” Silver Boots has a deep voice, slow and morbid, another thing at odds with someone tying balloon giraffes for passing school children in the middle of a work day. It makes Liam want to giggle. The small panic he felt at a possible confrontation leaches away as he looks up, giving a small smile as apology. 

“Mate, I’m really sorry. I shouldn’t have laughed. That looked… a little painful.”

Boots hums in response, rubs at his nose with his fingers, crossing his eyes a little as if he can spot a bump. He looks ridiculous and Liam has to bite down a bigger smile. 

“You know that thing where…you practice it perfect alone in your room, but when you test it out in front of a crowd… it’s the worst you’ve ever done it?” 

Who doesn’t know that feeling? Liam nods, trying to placate, “I reckon you could’ve managed five. Just, not with the banana maybe. Maybe another round fruit.” 

“Yeah. I was thinking a lemon, but I thought it’d make the act much too citrus.”

Liam blinks up, watches with disbelief as this bloke’s dimples deepen again, baffled enough to blurt out, “Much too… what?? Was that a pun? Or an attempt at a pun?” 

“Hey, that was alright! Lemon, citrus — cause I’d have the lime and orange too. Get it?” 

“Me understanding the pun isn’t really the issue here —” Liam stops himself from saying anything else, he’s not entirely sure this whole thing isn’t a prank, but Silver Boots seems proper put out. Maybe he’s a really good actor. Liam thinks back to Louis talking about failed auditions, making no money. This could be a side gig. Although, none of the kids paid him and he gave away his fruit, so if it is one he’s not being too savvy about it. 

Silver Boots pouts very loudly in the face of all of Liam’s thinking and non-acceptance of his pun, shaking his curls out of his face. “You’re a tough crowd.” 

Liam glances at his watch. His break is up and he still has to walk back to the office. He gets up, putting his palms up in apology. “I’m not your target market, though. The kids loved it.” 

“But how do you know you’re not my target market? Can’t assume that just because you’ve seen two parts of my act that you know my whole repertoire.” 

“Uh. I guess I can’t argue with that. Listen, mate, I —”

“Harry.” 

“What?” 

“Name’s Harry. So you can put that in your review.” 

“Harry, right. Well — I’m not reviewing you, Harry.” Liam’s feeling a little trapped — Harry’s eyebrows are furrowed and he doesn’t know if this means Liam’s just gone and hurt the feelings of the park juggler now instead of fighting him, and isn’t that just an arsehole thing to do. He’s also really got to get back to work. 

“Listen, mate — I’m having second thoughts and now I think… that I took your pun too citrusly. Didn’t give it the merit it deserved.” Liam is a breath away from ruining the straight face he’s got on, but he’s saved by Harry’s face opening up immediately, a barking laugh escaping him. It surprises Liam into smiling proper. 

“Alright, alright! See? I told you. Target market.” Harry taps a finger to his temple as if this makes any sense at all. 

Liam does shake his head then, finally moving away from Harry and his silver boots. “I’ve gotta go! Good luck with the act!” 

“Come back and see me fine-tune it!” 

The only way Liam can respond to that is a wave and a laugh, one that he carries with him most of the way back to the office. An odd encounter but not a bad one. Theme of the week. When he reaches the foyer, just before he passes through security, Liam taps out a quick message to Louis. 

_invited a frnd along to th match this wkend. hope thats alright?_

The reply comes through when Liam’s settled in at his desk, smiling even at the five new emails at the top of his inbox. 

_ofc!!! the more the merrier! c u soon :D x_

\+ 

The address Louis gives him is a small park in a part of town he’s not too used to, the match slated for early Saturday morning. Niall answers the door with a slice of toast between his teeth, grinning through the crumbs and butter as he pulls on his shoes. There was a low hum right in the nest of Liam’s stomach, but the signs were good. The sky wasn’t too cloudy, the temperature was nippy, but Niall had packed a thermos of tea, a flask of whisky and a tartan blanket like a true pro –“You don’t spend every weekend of your childhood watchin’ Derby without learning how to come prepared”– so by the time they get to the pitch, the rows of benches off to the side already filled with a bit of a crowd watching the players warming up on the field, Liam feels genuine excitement. 

“Right then, where’s your Louis? I hope he got us good seats.” 

“Nialler, he’s not my anything — let me text him.” 

Just as he gets his phone out he hears his name called out from across the pitch, and there’s Louis jogging towards him in a jersey, knee socks and cleats, messy hair pulled back with a headband. 

“Liam, you made it!” Louis smiles at him, nodding towards Niall in a friendly greeting. His eyes sweep down over Liam’s outfit, and he frowns. Liam didn’t think he could go wrong with a jumper and jeans and his coat, but… 

“Where’s your kit, though?” 

“Uh, what?” 

“You said you played in school, yeah? And that you haven’t for a while. So, I thought… ” 

Liam sputters a bit, “I thought you were asking me to come _watch_ a match!” 

“It’s like a Mr. Bean plot! Mate, we’ve got two spots free though, and I’m sure we can dig up a spare kit somewhere. What size shoe are ya? Oi, Olli!” Everything comes out of Louis at double speed, and he’s calling over his shoulder to someone before Liam can stop him. 

“Louis – I’m sorry, but like – I can’t, I’m not prepared. I didn’t come thinking I was gonna play!” 

Louis has his hands on his hips and that quick grin again, seemingly unperturbed by the same turn of events that has Liam’s palms a little sweaty. Liam had come thinking he was going to sit under a blanket with a thermos of whisky spiked tea next to Niall and Louis and cheer for some people he didn’t know. He’s not sure he’s mentally prepared to play footy all of a sudden _in front_ and _with_ a bunch of strangers. He looks over to Niall, who shrugs.

“I’m out, mate. I love a kickabout, but I’ve got the dodgiest knees in the world. I’m Niall by the way,” Niall sticks out his hand, which Louis shakes, smiling. 

“Louis, nice to meet ya. We’ve all got dodgy knees though.” 

“Could be, but I had massive knee surgery and two years of intensive physio so a stiff breeze might knock me out, I’m no use to ya. I’ve got the scar too, I’d show ya but skinnies aren’t easy to roll up,” Niall says this easy as he says anything and with a smile on his face to top it off. Louis looks impressed while Liam looks worried. He suddenly wants to hug Niall. 

“Okay, fair,” A bloke with fiery ginger hair and a smattering of freckles comes up next to Louis, nods hello. “Liam has no excuse though, does he?” Louis pauses all of three seconds before he goes on, “It’ll be fine! Olls, this is Liam and Niall. Reckon we’ve got an extra kit for Liam to fit into?” Liam gets sized up for the second time just that morning, Olli’s scan ending with a sharp nod. 

“Yeah, no worries. Meet me by the bench? Think Stan should have shoes for you,” Olli’s off again, turning his back on Liam’s frown. Louis clicks his tongue, and suddenly he’s got his fingers chucking Liam softly under the chin. When Liam looks at him, he’s smiling but it’s not the sharp grin of before, not the one he had when he brought Liam from pizza to ice cream. It’s the softer one, the one with a touch of concern, from when he was scared Liam would have a narcoleptic fit by the frozen foods. 

“Hey, c’mon. It’ll be fun. I can tell you work out, so a match between mates isn’t gonna get you down.”

Liam’s cheeks burn, and he tries not to be distracted by this, “I only know you and Niall!” 

He looks to Niall for help, but the bastard just shoots him two thumbs up and a wide grin as he starts walking away. “I’ll be rootin’ for ya both! I’m gonna go find a seat. Have fun! A stranger is just a friend you haven’t met yet!”

“Listen to Niall, he’s a wise one,” Louis says this as he pulls Liam onto the pitch. 

“You just met!” 

“And I can already tell he’s full of gems. Right, you ready to dominate? My team’s got a reputation to maintain.”

“You said a second ago it’s just between mates and that it’s just fun.” 

Louis looks at him like he’s being ridiculous,“Winning _is_ fun!” 

It’s chaos. There’s a dozen new people yelling out his name every few minutes whose names Liam can only guess at. His muscles and reflexes start out creaky, it really has been an age since he’s played. When he’s not breaking a sweat running from one end of the pitch to the other, he’s shivering in the cold, skin breaking out in gooseflesh. 

But it is also actually fun. He gets a goal in, almost by accident and pure chance, and Louis clambers on his back, yelling curses and encouragements. Niall waves the blanket in the air like a flag at that. The rival team are as friendly as his own, and Liam remembers that old memory of working in a team, from his days on the track team in school. Liam’s always enjoyed exercise, the burn and focus of it, the feeling of accomplishment. He’s never done it with Louis cackling next to him, and he finds that nicer in a different way. They work well together, Liam learning in the span of that pitch what the gleam in Louis’s eye might mean, either ramp up, or hold back, or meet me halfway. It all happens so fast that it’s easier to forget that it’s new and fast and scary. 

They end in a tie. 2-all. While they shake hands with the other team, Niall whips the blanket like a lasso, whooping. Liam sees some ladies shushing him and trying not to laugh but he laughs loud and long, making Niall wiggle his hips in response. There’s a hard clap on Liam’s back, and he turns to see Louis, flushed and beaming, and just a little bit smug. 

“Wasn’t a win, but I won’t be so hard on you since it’s your first time in a while.”

“I don’t remember you scoring a goal or did I miss that?” 

Louis’s eyes widen, his jaw dropping slightly open, and next thing you know he’s pinching Liam’s nipple through his borrowed jersey, and it burns. 

“Sass, I like it! Come on, shower then we can grab a drink. Niall’s got a head start with his special tea, so he can buy the first round.” 

Liam’s not sure how fair this is to Niall, but he has a feeling Louis will convey the sheer logic of his decision himself, and that Niall’s not really going to mind after that. 

That night, it’s family dinner again with his parents. Liam hugs his mum at the sink while she’s peeling carrots. 

“How’s your week been, mum?” 

“Oh you know, love. Never enough hours in the day. What about you? Everything good, are you alright?” His mum pats his cheek, as if checking him for cracks. Liam takes a deep breath. 

“Yeah, good. Got out this weekend. Went to a footy match with some friends. “ 

“Oh?” 

“Yeah, with my neighbour, Niall. Irish bloke, dunno if I ever told you about him,” He hadn’t. “And this new person I met. Really random, at Tesco’s the other night.” Liam shifts away to look in the fridge, more wanting to avoid his mother’s stare. Or wanting to hide the furrow in his brow. 

He doesn’t tell her about the pub after the footy match, Niall having found the only meteorologist in the small crowd and bringing her along because she knew a lot about different cloud formations and had a bank of amazing stories to tell from when she travelled through Central America. He doesn’t tell her about Louis’s hand on his knee warm and steady as he bantered with Niall, their accents thick and fast and clashing together, like a strange kind of harmony, a marriage from South Yorkshire and Mullingar. She won’t hear about the quick kiss Louis pressed to Liam’s cheek when he said goodbye, the way he said “I’ll see you soon.” He doesn’t tell her about Niall falling asleep on his shoulder on the Tube home.

He feels Karen’s hand on his lower back, patting him. 

“That sounds lovely, sweetheart. I hope you had a nice time.” 

Liam looks up. Karen looks hesitant, and he knows then he’s bought himself a bit more time. A peace offering probably. 

“And are they — are they nice, these new friends?” He kisses her quick on the top of her head. 

“Yeah, mum. They’re really nice.”

At dinner that night, no one says anything about the eight chairs. 

~~~

The thing is, Liam’s forgotten a little bit what it’s like to make new friends. He went straight from school to uni to work, and the people there were just built in. It was like moving from furnished house to furnished house. Andy became his best friend in school because they rode the bus together from Year 1 to Year 6. The people Liam hung out with the most in uni were the people from the floor of his residence hall. And now if he ever has plans it’s with the people from work. Zayn’s special because Liam actually found him all on his own, stumbled into their friendship like finding a new local in a hole in the wall bar, or building something new brick by brick, plank by plank. After that Liam figured he was done, he was good. 

Now suddenly his phone’s buzzing at work with selfies of Louis and his kids (they’re adorable), little snaps of his day as he gets Kavitha to school, spends the day finger painting with Danny. The second time they meet up, it’s for beers after work, and Louis waits for him on the street outside his office, engulfed in a ratty windbreaker, wisps of hair and a smile hiding under a beanie. The minute they walk through the door of the pub Louis brings him to, Liam’s signed up for a challenge to best Louis at pool. When Liam wins three games in a row, it becomes best 5 out of 8. Louis losing that round as well means Liam gets roped into an arcade date on Saturday, a rematch. 

The first person to hear about this is Niall because now his neighbour’s taken to knocking on his door with Thai food, inviting him over for FIFA. Pub invitations take a back seat to the two of them playing their guitars on the sofa, Niall teaching him the chords to the Top 40 on radio, teaching him Bruno Mars and Bieber. 

Jesy catches on to his mint new social life fast, eyeing Louis waiting for him in the office foyer (Louis moves more and more inside every time he shows up) when she and Liam walk out together at the end of the day. And because she’s smart, she sends sweet, doe-eyed Jade to guilt Liam into lunch with the girls, instead of eating a quick sandwich in the kitchenette. By the end of it he’s agreed to host that month’s office birthday lunch with Leigh-Anne. Mark is a little alarmed when she comes by their desks to chat buntings and colour schemes with Liam, and Liam doesn’t blame him.

When he finally gets a night alone again, he tells these new things to Zayn in whispers, cocooned in his bed like he’s a kid again, reading comics after bedtime. Zayn’s laugh is soft and gentle, their nods understanding when Liam can’t quite get his words around how weird it feels to have this muchness, how weird it feels to feel weird. Having two new friends isn’t supposed to be a big deal. Having lunch plans isn’t a big deal. 

“Just… doesn’t feel like my life, all of a sudden, y’know?” 

Zayn hums, face intent on screen as they sit in their own darkened bedroom, skin blued by the glow of the laptop, new silver hair buzzed short and glowing. Liam wants to reach into the computer and touch. 

“It’s a lot of new things at once. Still your life though, you’re not doing anything you don’t want to do, yeah?”

Liam thinks back to watching a movie with Louis the other night, some b-grade zombie horror show, both of them giggling at the off effects, tub of popcorn between them. He thinks of Niall inviting him to do laundry one night, waiting out the spin cycle with Niall telling him about his family back in Mullingar, his Irish friend Bressie who’s “built like a mountain.” 

“No, it’s nice. Everyone’s really nice to spend time with.”

“Tell me.” 

Zayn does this sometimes, gets Liam to make stories out of the people he sees, the things that happen. 

“Um. It feels like they’re both always laughing? But — like, in different ways? Niall laughs at anything, he does. He’s just a happy guy. And Louis… Louis likes to tease.” 

Zayn’s grin is slow. “Tell me more.” 

“Shut up. He’s just always scheming. Like, everything’s a game. Could be because he has to entertain a 6 and 4 year old everyday.” 

“Could be because he likes teasing you.” 

Liam takes a deep interest in the threads of his sheet. “Yeah, well. I’m worried he’s a breath away from suggesting more extreme activities like… I dunno, go-karts, or — skydiving.” 

“S’not like it’s that far off the mark that you’d do those things. You’ve like, run marathons and kayaked and shit.” Zayn scrunches up their nose like those things aren’t even real and Liam smiles. 

“I know. But I guess… Louis is very persuasive. It’s a bit scary.” 

“That’s not… is that a bad thing?” 

Liam turns away from the screen, rolling over onto his back to actually think about the question. Louis has made him nervous, yes. Like when he’d had about four pints and then challenged Liam to a game of darts. Or when he runs across streets without looking both ways. But it’s never made Liam feel genuinely fearful. 

“I think… sometimes it’s nice to have someone who always knows what to do. He leads, I follow. We pass time, we have fun. I don’t even really… I don’t even have to think.” 

When Liam turns back to the screen, Zayn is chewing on their lower lip, nodding slow. “And that’s the scary part, isn’t it?” 

“Yeah,” Liam chews on the rest before he can spit it out, watching Zayn just breathe. “I — this is stupid, but I’m worried I’m… trying to prove something by saying yes to him, to Niall, to everything. Have… have I been secretly lonely or something?” He laughs, nervous, horribly unsure, locking on to Zayn’s eyes. “I don’t think so, but now I’m just scared I’ve been fooling myself. I don’t know.” 

He hates feeling like this, doesn’t know why his mind has to go that far second guessing. 

“It’s okay, babe,” Zayn’s voice is measured, gentle. “It’s okay to feel all that. Just… trust yourself yeah? You know better than you think.” 

Liam hums. There’s more to it, but he can only hold so much right now. He tries for a smile. “I’ll have to trust you, then.” 

Zayn sticks out their tongue, pulling a face. Then they let their eyelids fall shut, hands clasped together pillowing their cheek. “Alright, enough about Louis. Be fair and tell me about Niall.” 

When Liam laughs his shoulders jostle the blanket so it falls and covers the screen, covers Zayn’s cheeky smile. This is the kind of easiness Liam’s used to. 

+

April means three birthdays at work, and Leigh-Anne’s got Liam on decorating duty somehow. 

“We just have to brighten up the meeting room, yeah? We’ve got some streamers and things to hang up from last month, we keep those in the stationery cupboard. So maybe you can just get some balloons?” 

So that Friday he nips out early before lunch, a search open on his phone to party supply stores and a chat window open with Ruth asking her about colours (Leigh-Anne had sent all these names he didn’t have a clue about — periwinkle? Lapis lazuli?). He ends up in Party Palace nearby, a shop with narrow aisles crammed with noisemakers and tinsel and fairy lights and every colour and pattern of balloon there could be. Ruth’s interpreted Leigh-Anne’s instructions and told him to look for “a pretty blue.”

It’s… Liam might be here awhile. The balloons are organized in little baskets by colour, then each colour section by varying shades, and there’s too many blues. 

_which blue is prettiest?_ Liam sends this to Louis with a shot of the entire blue section after 10 minutes staring in the aisle. A minute later he gets back a selfie, Louis with crossed eyes and a twisted mouth. 

_which blue matches these eyes? ;)_

He rolls his eyes at that, but he smiles too. Another reply follows quick. 

_danny says “the blue like the sky” so there ya go! g’luck mate i gtg get dan’s lunch together — tell me what you get :)_

That leaves him back with the wall of colours. He’s got to get back with enough time to set up before lunch. It doesn’t need to be this hard! Ten balloons, a pretty blue, blown up with helium. 

He’s gonna ask someone else to decide. Liam walks up to the front counter, squeezing in between a basket of tiki torches and a stack of patterned serviettes. Whoever’s working is squatting behind the counter, peering intently into the shelves behind them. 

Liam clears his throat. “Excuse me, can I ask for some help?” 

The shop assistant whirls around, all smiles and dimples and an “Of course.” It’s Harry, his expression swiftly matching Liam’s surprise. His smile gets even wider. 

“My citrus critic! I thought I’d never see you again!” 

“Harry! Wow, mate — same. Uh. You work here, then?” He’s more dressed down than when Liam saw him last, a loose black jumper with a few holes and a loose neckline under his dark green apron, a beanie over his curls. The rings are still there, but now as he pushes his sleeves up, Liam sees lines of tattoos snaking up his left forearm. Liam looks at the clean lines of the letters on his name tag, still not sure Harry’s all real. 

“Yep! Bit of a party expert. You needed help?” Harry leans his elbows on the counter and steeples his fingers and looking serious.

“Oh right, yeah — I was hoping you could recommend which colour balloon to buy? I’m looking for a ‘pretty blue’, but I don’t know, there’s…”

“Too many blues to choose from?” When Liam nods Harry straightens and nods back solemnly, as if he’s encountered this very dilemma before. He comes round the counter and heads towards the aisle, leaving Liam to follow. They squeeze together in the narrow aisle and Liam watches as Harry sticks his fingers in the baskets, rifling through the contents, lifting balloons out and peering at them. 

It goes on a while. Liam shifts his weight from foot to foot, watching, unsure what to say. Harry’s in no rush, but Liam’s got to spare a thought for his inbox back at work, neglected all this while. 

“I tried the line on some kids a few days ago,” Harry throws out over his shoulder, squatting now to reach the bottom baskets, stretching the rubber of a balloon like he’s testing the durability. 

“Oh — the citrus line?” Harry nods, his back still to Liam, “How’d that go then?” 

“Badly.” Liam knows his face does something complicated then, and he tries to clamp it down by biting down on his lip. Harry’s voice is dry and flat and he can’t see his face, so Liam has no idea where this is going. 

“I’m sorry to hear that, Harry.” 

Harry gets up, finally, with a fistful of balloons. He shrugs at Liam, face impassive. “They loved it when I hit myself with the apple again though, so there was that,” Harry smiles, a little break then that tells Liam he’s in on the joke, “Gave me hope in the future of my fruit comedy.” It’s a lovely thing, his smile, soft like the crinkles around his eyes. His lips are very pink, Liam wonders which basket of balloons matches those. He just remembers to smile back. 

“The potential’s there, I reckon. Maybe more in the physical than the verbal.” 

“That so?” Harry waggles his eyebrows, leering, and in a flash Liam feels a bit warm. “Ever thought about being an agent, managing talents?” 

“Think that’s what a manager does, actually.” 

“This blue,” Harry hands over the fistful, “In my professional opinion.”

The balloons are a sky blue, Liam guesses, with little flecks of gold. “Yeah?” 

“Yeah,” Harry leans closer, “The trick is that all blues are pretty, so I just picked my favourite ones. Plus, these have glitter in them, and that’s always a win.” 

Liam thinks Leigh-Anne will probably love the glitter. Or he hopes. 

“Sounds good to me. Can I get ten of these filled with helium and rung up?” 

“‘Course you can. I’ll even tie them with the matching gold ribbon.” Harry winks as he passes Liam to get back to the counter, their fingers brushing as he takes back the balloons he gave Liam to count out ten. A click. Liam’s brows knit together. 

“So… do you work here part time?”

“Are you asking how I have time to juggle for children in the park? Or if my employers know I’m using their gas tank to fill up balloon animals?” 

Well, right. Liam had been wondering those things, but he wouldn’t have ever asked outright, that would be rude, and he really was just wondering about Harry’s hours! Sort of. Before he can say anything Harry pauses at five filled balloons to tap a finger to the center of his forehead.

“You’ve got a skeptical face, Mr. Critic. Discerning. Shrewd.” 

“It’s Liam. And I’ve already said I’m not reviewing you.” What would that even look like? He certainly knows his way around a balloon, but when it comes to conversation, Harry muddles the plot, leaving the audience a bit lost and at sea. Pleasing to the eyes but hard to read, like a painting in another language. 

Harry focuses on tying washers to the ends of the gold ribbons to weigh the balloons down, but Liam sees him smiling down at his own hands, shooting a quick glance sideways. 

“Liam.” He says it to himself, really, once. He’s done quick, gathering up the balloons to position them by the counter before he steps around to the register. “So who are the balloons for, Liam?”

“It’s for work — April birthdays. I’m in charge of decorations.” 

Harry’s eyes flit quickly from the register to Liam’s face, smiling sly. “Ah, then I should be a good employee and ask if there’s nothing else you need for your party? We’ve got about a million types of gold ribbon, and patterned plastic plates. I can help you choose my favourites again.” 

Harry’s gone and stopped ringing up the balloons, and all he’s doing now is draped himself over it instead, wrists loose, fingers intertwined, looking at Liam through his eyelashes and again Liam feels like it’s a prank. This is ice cream against pizza again, isn’t it? He likes to think he’s good at playing along, that he’s amiable, amenable, but now he’s just unsure. He thinks about Louis spotting him and deciding to have a little fun. He thinks about Niall bounding down to the lorry when he first moved in, not even waiting for the first box out. It’s all moves and quickness and ease. He has that in him. Somewhere. 

Liam opens his mouth and ends up clearing his throat, unsure what to say. Well, so much for that. 

There’s a small twist to Harry’s mouth as he straightens, but his eyes are kind. “I’m sure you’ve got in under control, eh, Liam? Shouldn’t keep the birthday people waiting.” His fingers press a few buttons, and the register chimes. 

Yes, Liam’s probably most definitely late, but Leigh-Anne hasn’t called to yell at him so he’s got a chance yet. 

“Would you like to have lunch? With me? Some time?” It all comes out in a rush, but in Liam’s mind each word is a booming echo out of his mouth. 

He barely has to wait for a response, Harry straightens like a flower finding the sun, he beams. Liam still feels like the whole street heard his question. 

“I’d love that, Liam. Your total’s 32.67. Will you be needing a receipt?” 

+

“Another one!” 

“Don’t say it like that!” 

Zayn looks up from where they’re doing warm up sketches, shooting Liam a quick grin. “I’m just saying, babes. You’re collecting them! Like Pokemon.” 

Liam sputters. “Oh my God. I don’t know what came over me, honestly! It was just… I guess I thought, ‘This is where I flirt back,’ and then I just… botched it. I’m well out of my depth, Zayn. Felt like I was a minute off everything, like a broken clock.” 

“Aw, Liam. It worked though. He said yes, sounded very excited to say yes.” 

“I don’t even know what I’ve signed up for? He like, entertains kids in parks? Why did I do this again?” 

“You mentioned dimples a few times, if I remember correctly,” Zayn’s teasing but he sounds a little distracted, peering at the screen but not at Liam. This can only mean one of two things: either Zayn’s reading anime while they chat again, or they’ve gone and found Harry on Instagram, because they have an actual PhD in creeping online. “I mean, I get it. The dimples. There’s like one photo of him on here, and I get it.” 

“Argh!” Liam covers his face with his hands. He peers through a gap in his fingers. “Don’t tell me. Save it for after whatever it is we’re doing this weekend. Let me find out more about him myself.” 

“Okay,” Zayn stretches the word out, sounding impossibly fond. Liam still feels like rolling back and forth across his mattress another hundred times. “‘m proud of you, just so you know! You’re adventuring.” 

He supposes that’s a word for it. If he keeps saying yes it’s gotta get him somewhere. And if he hates it he can just start saying no again. He remembers his dad telling him this about trying new vegetables. It got him a bit friendlier with tomatoes, at least. 

He keeps this thought puttering around in his brain, has it to hold when he’s on Niall’s sofa with Louis next to him, one leg draped over his and elbows jostling him as he moves the controller and gets a goal on screen. Niall’s lying down on his other side, head near butting up against Liam’s hip as he scrolls through Twitter on his iPad, cheering at the appropriate times, meeting every fistbump that comes his way without even looking. 

Louis looks over, digs his elbow in just a bit harder on purpose. “You still with us, Payno? If you’re letting me win, that’s basically a forfeit and you’d need to pay the fine.” Liam _is_ letting Louis win, which he knows Louis actually loves, but he can never admit that because Louis also loves watching Liam suffer his challenges, a thing it took no time at all to learn. 

There’s something in him that wants to tell both of them about this Harry date, and there’s something in him that wonders when hanging out with Louis will feel like a date, and there’s something else in him hiding away but always peeking out, noticing now the pressure of Louis’s leg on his, remembering the few times Louis’s hand will reach up to rub his back like a checking in, the speed with which Louis lost all shyness in attacking Liam’s nipples at every opportunity. That soft concern, like a wave coming back every time. Always catching Liam a little off guard. He has a hundred questions and no knowledge of the right time to ask them so he just boops his head softly against Louis’s cheek and shakes his head just for the feeling. 

“I’m letting you win ‘cause you need the help, and I feel bad about it.” 

Niall ends up sandwiched between Liam and the cushions, squawking and giggling hard as Louis wallops the both of them with a pillow, yelling nonsense about gamesmanship and betrayal and the cheek of Liam, who does he think he is. In his other ear Niall’s yelling at Liam about being an idiot and how their cranky old neighbour downstairs is gonna piss on both their doormats now, and Liam just squeezes his eyes and blankets himself in the noise. 

+

Zayn helps him get dressed, goading him into bringing out more and more clothes from his wardrobe until they covered his bed. He vetoed the ‘gunmetal’ buttoned vest (all Harry’s ever seen him in is his work clothes anyway) but agrees to the high collared coat Nic had gotten him two Christmases ago that he always thought was a bit too fancy and his dress shoes. He trims his beard. Unlike with Louis, the only texts he gets from Harry are the ones where they decide when and where to meet. But he did finish with _I’ll see you Saturday then Liam :) x H_ and Zayn was pleased with that. 

It’s the same kind of nerves he felt heading out to meet Louis, and that familiarity is almost comforting. Except this time he doesn’t have Niall’s chatter to distract him, just the white noise of his own brain. He thinks to the last time he went on a date before all this, how it must’ve been some time in the summer of last year, a nice girl Andy had introduced him to. A handful of dinner dates, a movie. The quiet petering out of texts. It’s been mostly that for varying lengths of time, and on a rare one or two occasions, something a little more — where the end justified some kind of big conversation, some kind of rousing trip to the pub after. It was in uni, and that was how everyone did the relationship thing. As he exits the Tube, Liam tries and remembers these people’s names, what they looked like, what they talked about. He thinks about doing that all again, and doesn’t quite know how he feels about it. 

He mills around outside the station, reading the graffiti on the walls of the bus stop. He’s in the middle of reading about the saga of Ethan B, ‘dat basterd,’ when he spots Harry coming from across the street. His long hair is tied up into a bun, and he’s wearing a long dark coat over a ratty Rolling Stones tee and jeans. He still looks immaculately dishevelled, and it reminds Liam of Zayn. He’s also looking a little harassed, brow furrowed when he spots Liam, and Liam swallows against the building dread. It’s only just started. 

“Liam, hey,” Harry presses a distracted kiss to his cheek before moving away. Liam barely says hello back before Harry’s rolling on, “Listen, I’m so sorry to do this — but there’s been a change of plans.” 

Oh God. Is he being stood up, _in person_? Is the change of plans that Harry’s decided this was all a terrible mistake? Liam wishes Niall were here, Niall could whisk him away right now and flip Harry the bird behind Liam’s back, Liam could pretend this never happened if Niall were here. Well, this is what you get for adventuring. Liam still can’t quite fully accept tomatoes in all their forms. 

“— I’m an idiot, I’m always doing this and that’s no excuse, it’s just that Grimmy will literally kill me if I don’t go. He’s dead nice, so you don’t have to worry about anything. And Pig loves people — wait, are you allergic to dogs?” 

“What?” Harry’s still here, and he’s talking about dogs. And pigs. 

“Just — Grimmy — Nick, my friend, the one I have to drop in on before we go to lunch, has a dog? If you have allergies, I might need a new plan.” 

“Oh. No, I grew up with them, my family has dogs. So, that’s fine.” 

The worry in Harry’s face turns into relief. “Yeah? So you don’t mind if we see Nick for a bit? I’m really sorry, I just didn’t want to cancel on either of you.”

Liam takes a deep breath and give Harry a small smile. “Yeah it’s okay. I mean, as long as he doesn’t mind me there.” 

“No way, Nick loves company,” Harry loops his arm in Liam’s and pulls him back into the Tube station. “Tell me about your dogs.” 

Harry learns about Watson and Loki as they head to Nick’s, and Liam learns about Pig, learns that Harry’s camera roll on his phone is 25% Pig, 25% his family’s cat Dusty and 50% other people’s babies. Liam learns about Nick, about his wall of vinyl records, about how he has a dozen godkids, learns that he works in radio, which Liam doesn’t listen to. 

They don’t bother sitting down on the Tube, so they spend the ride swaying together with the movement of the carriage, arms up holding on to the railing. When Liam tells him about his older sisters, Harry leans his head against the crook of his elbow and watches Liam’s face. His voice is slow and a little sleepy when he tells Liam that he’s got an older sister too, just the one. Her name is Gemma. 

It’s a mindless easy kind of talking, driven by their literal movement to Nick’s flat, to Pig, to vinyl records. Harry always has an extra question, and needs a few minutes after every one of Liam’s to answer. It’s a funny rhythm, but it gets them to Nick’s front door. 

“Well ‘ello! Fashionably late, as ever.” The door opens to a bright smile and wary eyes, and a quiff near as long as Nick’s lean face. Nick Grimshaw is tall and also immaculately dishevelled, and he gives Liam a once over as he pulls Harry into a hug. “Hello there, you must be Hazza’s date, you poor thing.” 

“Hey!” 

Nick ignores Harry’s mild outrage and welcomes Liam into the flat. “Don’t hey me. Who’s the one that went and double booked himself and brought dear Liam here to a bloody baby shower for a first date? Christ. Alright come through, go say hello.”

It’s much worse than Liam could’ve imagined. He walks through to the living room and it’s all terribly fashionable men and women sitting in a circle on the floor around a pile of dogs and cooing babies, with what must be the guest of honour sitting pregnant on an electric pink zebra print chair, draped with a fur scarf. 

“Oh hello, who’s this, then?”  
“Grim, this your new boy? Bit young in’t he?”  
“Say hello, Hattie! Wave with your hands, now.”  
“What happened to the other one, Henry or whoever it was?” 

“Hey!” 

There’s a flurry of hellos and red lipstick kisses as Harry makes the rounds, Nick behind him holding his coat and looking to Liam for his. “Yes yes, he’s finally here. He’s also brought Liam, Liam this is everybody.” 

Liam shakes hands and smiles down at everyone, trying very hard to ignore the alarms going off in his head. He could’ve been at home in his boxers watching telly. He could’ve gone for a run. He could’ve cleaned Ralph’s tank. He could’ve gone to the movies with Niall and Louis. He could’ve talked to Zayn. 

“Okay, keep having fun, me and Liam are going to bake a cake for Tess.” Harry’s hand is cool and dry in his, and suddenly he’s being pulled away from the noise and people into the relative quiet of Nick’s kitchen. Liam and Harry face each other in a hanging drop of silence. 

“I’ve fucked it up. I’m really, really sorry. I didn’t think — I mean, I knew, but I guess I’d forgotten, that they were going to all be here, and be them, and with the babies, and —”

Liam takes a seat on one of Nick’s spindly bar stools, leans an elbow on one of the few empty spaces on the kitchen island not covered in bottles of booze. “Harry, just — what are… how do you know everyone here? What do you do? Just. Who actually are you?” 

There’s a beat as they blink at each other. A baby shrieks in the other room and a dog howls to join it. 

“Wow, that’s a little existential.” 

“Harry.” 

“Okay, alright. I met Nick at uni, when he came to do a roadshow thing at my uni campus, in Leeds,” Harry moves around Nick’s kitchen with a practiced ease and absent familiarity, getting eggs and butter out the fridge, mixing bowls and measuring cups from the cupboards over the kitchen roll. “I used to hang out at the Student Union a bit, we got to talking, and we’ve been friends ever since.” 

Liam watches him move, tabulates the ingredients he puts out on the counter. Brown sugar. Flour. Vanilla extract. “So you’re studying?” 

Harry gives Liam a quick complicated look before he starts pouring things into other things. “Not really. I’m on a gap year.” 

“And what were you studying before?” 

Harry magics a mixer out of somewhere, gets it started on the batter, and when he puts the vanilla in the scent fills the whole room. It’s a bit calming. Liam moves to tracing the tattoos on Harry’s left arm with his eyes, tallying what he can see — an anchor, a mermaid, a rose. “Um, law mainly. Thought it’d be interesting. Wasn’t. Not to me, anyway.”

A ship. A heart. “And now you work at Party Palace.” He doesn’t mean it as anything other than fact, but Harry doesn’t look up when he nods, and Liam can tell the rhythm’s changed. The only movement now is the slow whirring of the mixer, and Harry scooping puffs of flour into the batter. 

Before Liam can ask something else, Nick whirls in, his eyes darting between the both of them, catching Harry turning around to turn on the oven. “Liam, are you suffering this one’s stories about being a baker? I swear he tells everyone at least twice a week, like we could ever forget.” 

“Who’s baking you this cake, free of charge?” 

Nick rolls his eyes while he gets more glasses out. “With _my_ groceries and cookware. Could’ve just gotten Tess a pack of onesies and some books for the baby, like I’d said. Had to DIY it though, didn’t ya? Baking _me_ this cake, yeah right.”

Harry picks up the bowl and stirs the mixture with a spatula, cradling the bowl close. “Come talk to me when you’ve had your third slice, old man.” 

Perhaps bored by what seems like routine bickering (and Liam doesn’t miss that all these barbs are coming through wide smiles), Nick turns to Liam, eyes gleaming. “Right then, pet. What’s the story? How’d a fittie like you pick up this stray?”

Harry barks a laugh, and Liam rubs at the back of his neck, unsure. “If anything, I’m the stray, surely? I feel a bit bad, coming to a shower with no gift.” 

“Oh no you don’t — H, look at his manners — that’s all Hazza’s fault here, you let him bear it on his own. What do you do, Liam? And where’d you meet our dear Harry?” 

“I’m — I’m just in marketing. My office is down the road from this, this cafe I like to go to. Across the road, there’s a park.” 

“Ohhh —” Nick’s tone is all knowing, and he nods vigorously. “Caught him juggling then. And you’re still here! Bless.” 

Harry lands a quick swat to Nick’s hip with a wooden spatula. “Alright, you’re interrupting the baking process, the cake’s gonna come out all soggy and terrible because of you. Bye.” 

“Alright alright. Shooed out of my own kitchen, the bloody disrespect! Youth!” 

They watch him leave, greeted by another cacophony of laughs and yells and titters. When Liam turns back, Harry’s tapping the cake pan against the counter. Once, twice, three times. When he taps against the sides, his rings clink against the aluminium. 

“Right. Be honest,” Harry looks up, fingers still tap tap tapping away. A cross. A bible. “From a scale of one to citrus pun, how bad is this date?” 

The laugh Liam lets out surprises even him, and Harry braves a tentative smile. Liam shakes his head, “Nothing’s as bad as the citrus pun.” 

“Ouch, harsh.” 

He smiles down at his hands, not sure where else to look. “To be fair, I’ve been feeling lately like I actually don’t have any idea what a date’s even meant to be. So I don’t think I have an answer for you.”

Harry closes the oven door. “Hm. Can that possibly be taken as ‘to be determined’?” 

He’s got a smear of flour right above one eyebrow, and his smile is sincere and hopeful. 

“We could have rescheduled.” 

“I wanted to see you today.” 

Well then. Liam concedes. “So there are other parts to this date, is there?” He figures he’s allowed just the lightest touch of a strop, and Harry takes it. 

“Yes there are. Can I offer you a lager?” 

“Can you offer me Nick’s lager?” 

“… Yes.” 

Harry sets a timer on his phone for the cake, and leads Liam out of the kitchen, around the big room where everyone’s now opening presents, judging from the rise and fall of the voices, to a room off Nick’s corridor. All it has is a daybed, some bookshelves, framed photographs, and a desk with nothing much on it. It has a gorgeous big window with a seat, looking out onto the tree-lined street outside. When Harry shuts the door, the noises of the party are muffled, and Liam breathes in deep. 

“Nick’s office, that he never uses. Decent view though.”

“Yeah, really nice view.” They settle in, Liam leaning his back against one side of the window, Harry leaning on the other. They crack open their tins and wordlessly cheers. Liam might’ve gone for a cup of tea instead, but this is alright too. 

“So. A baker, a juggler, a balloon expert. Aspiring comedian,” Harry hides his smile at this behind his drink, “That’s quite a collection of skills there. Where’d you learn all those?” 

“Well, Liam, I’d like to think my comedy is innate, that it comes from a natural gift of timing and wit.” 

“Right, of course.”

“But the rest I really learned from YouTube,” Harry admits on a laugh. “I mean, the baking was from my after school job at a bakery. And my mum and sister. And Nigella. The rest of it’s just… with my gap year, and sometimes there isn’t all that much to do at the store — I’ve got some free time. I like learning new things, keeping my hands busy.” 

Liam places this images into the frame of things he knows about Harry gingerly, not knowing yet how it fits. “I’m a bit of a drifter. Or that’s what my mum says, sometimes. Figured I might as well learn new things along the way.”

“Are you planning on going back to school, you reckon?” 

From the set of Harry’s shoulders, the way they rise to his ears on a deep inhale, the way he keeps his eyes trained on a point on the horizon, Liam understands that might be a question Harry hates but gets often. “You don’t need to answer that — I was just wondering.” 

Harry releases a breath, lets a few beats pass. “Well, I’ve been wondering about you, Liam. How’d the party go? Did they like the balloons?” 

“They did. Leigh-Anne loved them so much I think she’s getting me to buy the ones for the May birthday lunch.” 

“Uh-oh, you’ll have to see me again.” 

Liam smiles. “Reckon you’re right.” Harry smiles back, limbs going loose, one leg stretching out so he can poke his toes against Liam’s calf. 

“How’s your week been, Liam? Everything good?” 

It’s such a sweet question, Harry’s voice soft and measured. Liam nods, yeah it has. 

“Been a bit nervous about this, though. Talked Zayn’s ear off about it.” 

“Oh? Who’s Zayn?” 

“Zayn’s my best friend, lives in Manchester. They helped me pick this outfit over Skype, helped me calm down a bit.” 

“It’s a sharp outfit. You’ll have to tell Zayn you looked really good today,” Harry’s smile goes on forever, clearly pleased. “So I’m that scary, hey?” 

“Terrifying.” Harry giggles at this immediately, terrible. They look out the window together, Liam staring at a few birds on a lamppost, feeling what might be Harry’s eyes on his face. There’s another nudge against his leg. 

“Want to help me decorate the cake later? I’ll let you pick the colours this time. I’ve also thought of a few more puns for the juggling act, thought I’d run them by you.” Harry waggles his eyebrows at him, like he’s just served Liam a gold plated offer. 

“See? Just fright and horror, you are. Run them by me now, we can workshop a few after in front of the babies. Get some input from the dogs.” 

Harry rubs his hands together, both gleeful and serious, a terribly endearing combination. “You’re gonna help me make it big, Liam. I can feel it.” 

+

The next few weeks goes by in a pattern that soon becomes familiar. Saturday footy with Louis becomes a regular occurrence, their team and Niall’s big group of friends joining together after at the pub, one loud massive crowd, the two of them pressed together in the crush, laughing into each other’s shoulders at some mad joke. Wednesday nights piled on the sofa to play FIFA with the both of them becomes a thing, to the point where Louis sleeps over one night after it goes on too late, steals a shirt to wear to work the next day, sends Liam a pic of Danny’s sick on it, losing with it and looking like he’s just made it a million times better. 

_its been baptized & anointed!!!_ he had sent, and Liam couldn’t even be mad. 

Then there’s Harry, and this slow, unfolding… thing. Harry becomes his new lunch buddy, sometimes in the park, sometimes at a new place by the Party Palace, sometimes accompanied by his balloon gas tank, sometimes not, often bringing Liam something small to keep, a paper flower he made from the scraps at work, an actual flower he plucked from somebody’s garden, a single fairy cake. Liam plays him the little snippets of his songs he saves on his phone, jam sessions with Niall, little noodling melodies he plinks on the keyboard at breakfast. Harry tells him about Nick, about the people that come into the store, the kids he’s met that week, the new things he’s trying to learn (recently it’s been the harmonica). Liam tells him about Niall, and Jesy and the HR girls, and Louis. On weekends sometimes they go for brunch, markets, music stores. Harry buys Liam a Rolling Stones vinyl, even though he doesn’t have a record player, and he spends the rest of that Sunday just smiling at it from where he’s playing his guitar.

They hold hands. This, above everything else, sets Liam’s nerves alight, gets him excited and nervous. He’s told Zayn, but he can’t figure out even then how to express why it means so much, to link fingers with Harry when Harry walks him back to his building, or when they sit there by the fountain huddled close with his phone between them. He thinks Harry must’ve been the one to start it, but with how much it makes him happy he wouldn’t be surprised if he’d been the first to reach out. They don’t talk about it, never take it beyond anything bigger. But it’s the small touches Liam can’t stop thinking about anyway, the way Harry holds his wrist before they say goodbye, how he walks his fingers up Liam’s arm to his elbow, the way he brushes lint of Liam’s shoulders, thumb dragging a little over collarbone. The way Harry’s never the first to let go when he hugs, but more so the press of his fingers on Liam’s shoulders as one last touch. 

It’s giving Liam ideas. 

“Sounds like… you want to get physical.” Zayn’s being careful with their words, treading lightly. 

“I mean. Maybe I want to kiss him. But maybe also, it’s just that I want to be kissed?” Liam’s drumming his feet rapid fire while he’s sitting at his dining table, and it feels like Ralph is giving him judgy eyes from his tank. 

“There’s nothing wrong with either of those things.” 

“No, I know. I’m just wondering if — if it’s the second thing, maybe it doesn’t really have to do with Harry.” 

Zayn tch’s, mouth curving into a half smile. “I don’t even know him, like, but maybe Harry should get a little credit here. As a person who’s listened to the way you talk about him.” 

Liam’s skin itches and he doesn’t meet Zayn’s eyes. “No but I mean, I could want to kiss Louis, too.” 

Here’s the thing about ideas, is that they multiply. Because once Liam started focusing on the way Harry would gently tug at the stubble on his jaw when Liam said something he found cute, it was a hop and a skip away from noticing how Louis always holds his face after headbutting him in the chest. How when he gets excited about something, he’ll grab on to Liam’s knee and squeeze it, how he picks out fluff from Liam’s jumpers before blowing them in Liam’s face, how he grabs Liam’s hand after a fist bump sometimes, just to swing their arms together. Would there be a difference, then, if he were to kiss Louis? 

“I can hear those wheels turning in your head, babe. Wanna share?” 

Liam scrubs a hand through his hair. “I don’t remember ever really feeling like this. It’s like… wanting, but it’s so…” Liam can only wave his hands around in the air, mimicking a vague cloud, hoping Zayn gets it. 

“Well, I don’t think it’d be too hard for you to kiss a complete stranger now, with all of this going on. But I also think either or both of them could want to kiss you back, like? Wouldn’t be the hardest thing to test out.” 

How is Zayn so rational about this? How is Zayn always just so calm about everything? 

“What if I said I wanted to kiss you?” 

“Well babe, I’d ask you when you’re getting into Manchester, and if you’re going to stay for dinner.” 

“Zayn, really.” 

“Really!” Zayn laughs, a low chuckle as they shake their head, their image a brief blur on the screen. “A kiss is a big deal, and it’s also not, you know? I love you, and I care about you. I don’t think a kiss would change anything between us. And if it did — I love you, and I care about you, so I think it would be a cool, good change anyway.” 

Liam really does want to kiss Zayn. “Wish you were here. Wish you could help me do this.” 

“Watch you kiss Louis and Harry, eh?” And isn’t that an image. Liam hides his face, a wild giggle escaping him. “Get Niall along, I feel like he’d feel left out otherwise!” 

“You’re terrible.” He wouldn’t be against that either. He thinks about kissing a laugh right out of Niall’s mouth. Clearly he can’t be trusted around any human right now. 

“You’re right, I’m awful. Go on and kiss some boys and come back and tell me about it!” 

+

He stops short of actually planning it. But then Niall’s back in Mullingar for the week, and Louis still texts _movie tonight @ mine? we can send selfies to irish_ and then it’s just. Liam thinks about it. 

Lou’s place is a tip, but Liam sees he’s made a clean nest on the sofa that’s different from the mess around it. He’s all rugged up in his sweats, a baggy hoodie and socks he rolls up over his cuffs, and Liam remembers how soft he looked when they first met. 

“Liam Leemo lad, come in!” Louis’s hugs are firm but light — a squeeze and a quick release. Liam thinks about the way Harry lingers, with everything. 

Tonight’s movie is something with Jason Statham in it, so Liam knows Louis will be doing accents for potentially days after this. Louis gets Liam to sit down and fusses around him setting everything up, stubbornly refusing his offers to help before dive bombing onto the cushions, clinging to Liam’s side like a koala. They’ve started doing that a bit more, usually with Niall in the middle, cuddling close. Now that it’s just the two of them, and Liam has these _thoughts_ , his heart gets a little stuck in his throat when Louis’s hands go round his middle, one hand tapping a beat on his stomach to the music playing over the credits. 

Liam shifts to put his arm over the back of the sofa, and tries to remain as still as possible. 

The movie has a million accents, and Louis cackles at all of them, cursing at the fight scenes and the blood, his laughter shaking against Liam, and Liam’s stuck. 

He thinks about facing Louis right now, those sharp blue eyes like ice, the way they crinkle and disappear when he smiles. He wonders what Louis’s scruff would feel against skin. His hand nearly itches to test it, to reach out and poke, just to see. 

Jason Statham drives a car through a crowd of people. Liam’s still thinking. 

“Lou.”

Louis hums, and Liam feels the buzz on his shoulder where Louis has rested his cheek. He’s crunching quietly on some chips, intent on whatever’s happening on the telly. Liam finally moves, displacing Louis and sitting up, heart right in his mouth. 

“Whassup, Payno? Need a wee or summat?” Louis brushes the crumbs off his front and presses pause, stretching out the kinks in his muscles while he looks at Liam, unsuspecting. Liam’s staring, and Louis blinks. “Everything alright? Liam?” 

“I… I’ve been…” Liam clears his throat. He shifts to kneel on the sofa, and moves close enough for his knees to bump into Louis’s, his eyes focused on the confusion in Louis’s face, to try not to think about what he’s about to do. “Just… wanna try something, if that’s okay.” His voice peters out as he leans in close, the okay lost as he touches his lips to Louis’s and closes his eyes.

It’s just a press, his lips puckered soft and gentle, ready to retreat, and there’s a quick oh from Louis in the way his head moves a fraction back. A beat. Louis’s stubble rustles when it brushes against Liam’s. Two beats. A tentative hand comes up to his jaw, and then there’s a press back. Liam moves his hands from his knees to rest lightly on Louis’s shoulders, and tilts his head just a little, presses back, releases.

The stillness breaks when Louis surges up, reels Liam back in, his mouth moving now, his hand on the back of Liam’s neck keeping him there. Liam can taste the salt of the chips, and it’s all so strange that this is happening, and good, and strange, and good. 

They break apart, lips a little shinier than before, eyes a little dazed. Louis blinks. Liam blinks. 

“What was that!” Louis voice is awestruck, quickly giving way to a disbelieving giggle. It sets Liam off too, and they fall back against the cushions, clutching at one another, wide eyed and laughing and giddy. 

“You’ve been thinking about that? You’ve been thinking about a snog?” Louis whirls on him, twisting round to hold him by the shoulders and giving him a little shake. 

Liam clamps a hand over his mouth, eyes misting a bit from laughing. He feels like a river, like the rapids, like something’s unleashed, released. He did it. He kissed Louis. He tries and calm down to answer. “I’d been curious, yeah. I — it’s just been on my mind, couldn’t shake it.” He feels a quick flicker of something else. “I’m — I hope it was okay, I hope you were okay with it.” 

“Yeah, Liam. It’s okay. I just… I didn’t think it was like that. Have ya been thinking about like, just snogging in general, or kissing me? Specifically?” 

“Uh. Both, really. I didn’t mean to, like. I wanted to try it, but if you weren’t okay with it… I hope you don’t think… I wanted to try it, and also I wanted to try it with you. Does that make sense?” Because I trust you. And you’re careful with me. 

Louis lets his hands slide down Liam’s arms, their hands close but not really touching. He nods, his brow wrinkling just a little. “Yeah. I think so.” 

They look at each other, the giddiness seeping out, the air growing quieter and more still. “You kissed back.” 

“Well of course, I wasn’t going to have our first kiss be terrible!” It sets off again, a spark and a fire and a roaring flame, Liam hugs his sides he’s laughing so hard. Louis lets him go, laughing with but softer, he’s the one watching this time, the one pushing Liam’s hair out of his face once he’s come down. 

“Anything you wanna tell me, lad?” Louis speaks soft and hushed, like he’s putting Liam to sleep. 

While Liam catches his breath, Louis slides down next to him on the couch, keeping his eyes on Liam’s face. He reaches down between them and takes Liam’s hand in his. 

“I’ve been sort of, seeing this person. Like, outside of hanging out with you. And Nialler.” 

“Yeah, Harry, right?” Louis makes a severely unimpressed face at his surprise. “You don’t realize how much you actually let on to Niall.” 

“Well, okay. Yeah. Harry. I don’t know. He’s not got anything to do with this, not really. It just became this idea I couldn’t get rid of,” He turns to meet Louis’s gaze. “Have you ever… have you ever thought about it?” 

“A little bit, yeah. I mean. I dunno, they were idle thoughts. Didn’t think you’d be into it. Wasn’t sure — wasn’t sure I wanted to get into it, to be honest. And I don’t mean that as an insult.” Louis takes a deep breath and flicks his eyes away, looking to the ceiling. “It’s been really great getting to know you, Liam. Hanging out with ya. It’s — like, I left a lot of friendships in acting school, so it was nice to — I’ve been happy with what we have.” 

“Me too!” Liam squeezes Louis’ hand tight, tight, tight. “Me too, Lou. I’m not saying I wanted anything to change. I’ve just always wondered.” 

“Still wondering? I’m up for another snog, I’m game.” Louis is teasing, but Liam leans in for a quick peck anyway, just for the way it makes Louis’s face go a little slack. Lou clears his throat, coughing a little into his fist. “Just kissing, innit? I’m fine to kiss you any day, Payno.” 

Liam’s heart swells at that, overflows. He hides his face in Louis’s neck to stop from preening. Zayn’s gonna be so proud. 

Lou pats the top of his head, sighing happily. “In fact, I think we should kiss at least one more time, and see if we can give Nialler a heart attack all the way in Mullingar.” 

Niall sends them a voice note that’s just a one minute cackle, and a solid block of kissy face emojis and hearts. 

_im owed 1 each when i get back then! weirdos! luv ya xox_

+

“Morning, Liam. To what do I owe the pleasure?” Harry’s voice is a low rumble, and Liam can’t stop smiling. 

“It’s actually half past two, and you’re a disgrace.” He’s gleeful. 

“It’s still too early for you to sound so chirpy,” There’s loads of rustling happening on the other end, Liam imagines Harry rolling about in bed. “What’re you up to? If you say working out or doing something that benefits society, I’m hanging up.” 

Liam laughs, bouncing on his feet as he splashes a little water on Ralph basking on his little rock shelf. “I’m waiting for Nic to pick me up, dinner with the family tonight and mum’s got us on grocery duty.” 

“Hmm, that’s beneficial to your mum, but I’ll allow it. Everything good otherwise?” 

Liam hums a happy sound, feeling soft in the middle. “Yeah. Everything’s great. Am I still seeing you tomorrow?” 

“A picnic in freezing London weather, right? I’ve written it down in my diary.” 

“It could be nice out tomorrow.” 

“Pigs could also fly.” 

“That’ll be nice to see on our picnic. I’ll let you get back to sleep, you lump.” The affection is clear even to Liam’s own ears, and he doesn’t mind, doesn’t care about being transparent. 

“Yay. Have a good day, Liam. See you tomorrow.” 

“You too, Harry.” 

His silly mood was infectious, it kept Nic laughing and smiling to the shops, the both of them fooling around amidst the produce and the aisles, just like when they were kids, Liam getting up on the bar at the end of the shopping trolley and Nic pushes him along, his arms darting out to reach tins and packets. They very nearly get told off, and escape to the bakery just in time. 

“You’re in a good mood, Lima Bean.” Nic ruffles his hair like she always does, before turning to look at some fruit. “It’s nice to see.” 

“Nic,” He grips the metal sides of the trolley, waits for his sister to turn around. “I’ve met someone. I’ve actually met a couple of someone’s.” 

Nicola raises an eyebrow. “Well, right. A couple! What’s that mean?” 

He shakes his head, smiling. “That I’ve met some new people. That I’ve made new friends. That I was happy before and I’m happy now, that it’s all good.” 

She softens, putting down the pack of strawberries she’d been holding to hug him. “Well that’s even nicer. I’m glad.” 

It’s his way of telling all of them, without telling all of them. Nic will tell his mum to play it cool, as much as is possible, so that if anything she corners him in the kitchen instead of crying all over him at the dinner table in front of everyone. That’s what he hopes anyway. He knows he’s not giving them much information, but he doesn’t want to get into boyfriends and girlfriends and bringing people to dinner. 

Well. Actually. That last idea wouldn’t be too bad. He could introduce Harry to Lou and Nialler, they could all come up here for a Saturday dinner. Karen could see they’re real. 

They’re pulling into the garage, Tom waiting outside to give them a hand with the bags, and Liam holds tighter to his good mood, the way his bones feel light. 

Two kisses per cheek from his mum at the door. Two dogs rushing to him from the kitchen. The hallway clock permanently stopped at 6:18. Kitchen drawer third one down with the sticky wheels. Three shell-shaped soaps in the blue dish in the downstairs bathroom. Seven placemats on the dinner table. And eight chairs. 

Geoff’s got a game on the telly, and Liam joins him, leaving Nic and Nick helping unpack what they’ve bought, Tom and Ruth playing with the dogs in the garden. His dad squeezes his knee in greeting, and they watch the game in comfortable silence. 

It’s midway through the first half when Nic pops her head through the door of the living room. “Liam, mum wants you in the kitchen — I forgot the milk, so I have to head back out.”

She squeezes his arm on his way out, and whispers “I’ve told her. So, be prepared.” 

“Thanks, Nic.” 

What’s waiting for him in the kitchen is a sack of potatoes waiting to be peeled, and his mum dabbing at her eyes with a tea towel. “Oh, Liam.” Her voice wobbles as she holds out her arms to him. 

“Mum, don’t cry. It’s all good.” He bends down, rubs her back, hopes Ruth comes back in here at some point so he has back up. 

“I know, baby. I’m just so happy,” She clutches him tight, sniffling. “I knew you’d like Louis. I knew it right off.” 

His hands are still moving as the words travel to the part of his brain that slows everything down. He stiffens in her arms, pulling away. His mum’s still dabbing at the tears under her eyes, wide and watery and searching. 

“Mum, how do you — what do you mean you knew?” 

She moves away from him, oblivious, going to the sink to get the water running again to wash the veg. “It was Maddy’s sister and her bakery actually — remember those girls from your old school, Ruth’s friends? They were the ones that had told us about the nanny for the Duttas, because their family’s come by to the bakery once or twice, brought him along. So when Ruth and I were in the city for a little shopping trip, we got in touch. He’s lovely, that Louis, isn’t he? So good with the kids, and cheeky. Such a warm person.” She turns around, beaming. “I’m just so glad you both get on. I had thought, but you know how you can never be absolutely sure about these things. I’ve been waiting and waiting to ask, but Ruth kept telling me to be patient. We didn’t want to push.” 

The words seem to be coming both lightning fast and sluggishly slow, as Liam has to reposition all these new facts alongside the old ones. He still hasn’t moved from the middle of the kitchen. 

“What… what did you tell Louis? Why didn’t you tell me about Louis?” And there, that first emphasis, is when he sees that his mother has registered something’s wrong. 

“Love — it’s just like I said, we didn’t want to push. I know you get worked up when we fuss, we thought if we’d tried to set you up with him, you wouldn’t want anything to do with him. Better that you got to know him on your own.” 

Three months since Tesco. Two nights since he kissed Louis and they told each other what it meant to be friends. Four kisses, in all. 

“Oh love, I’ve — I’ve said it wrong, haven’t I? You can’t be angry, Liam, we meant well! You know that. And it worked out, didn’t it? Nic was just saying how happy you are, and I’ve been seeing it, we all have. Oh no… Ruth! Ruth, come in here.”

It rains on the bus home. His shoes squelch as he walks into his own flat, corridor thankfully empty. He empties his pockets onto the table by the door, switches his phone off while he’s there, strips off his damp layers as he heads to his bedroom. The towel is rough against his face, his scalp, his arms, but it warms him up, and when he gets down under his covers, he can feel his toes and fingers start to thaw out. 

Liam pulls the blanket over his head, and everything is a filtered light darkness. He lies awake in it, and counts his breaths. 

~~~

“What sounds like it smells better, Zayn? Amber Moon, or Lake Sunset?” Liam holds a big jar of Amber Moon in his hand, staring at the picture on the label. 

“How does anyone know what the moon smells like? I’d go lake, not that I’ve been to one recently.” 

“I feel like a lake would smell sort of, pine needle-y.” 

“I think though, I mean surely pines aren’t the only trees around every lake, in like, the world.” 

Liam hums, agreeing. Someone squeezes past him in the aisle and bumps his shoulder. Zayn’s voice sounds so far away no matter how close Liam gets the phone to his ear. The din of the shopping centre, the crying babies, the ringing registers, everything, drowns everything out. Liam starts making his way to the exit. 

“Did you smell them then? Which one was better?” 

He shakes his head before remembering they’re not on Skype this time. “Nah, was getting too crowded, so I left.” 

Zayn’s quiet on the other line as Liam weaves through the thick clusters of people, but he can hear them breathing. Unless that’s his own breathing heavy in his ears. He finds his way to the level of the shopping centre that sells only gym equipment and massage chairs, he knows it’s slightly less packed compared to the clothes stores, and the shops selling homewares and expensive candles. He does a circuit past the shops. 

“Still there, Zayner?” 

“‘Course, babe. Sorry, was just mixing some colours.” Zayn’s working on a painting for their sister’s birthday, Liam wishes now he could see it, watch Zayn paint, which has always been a calming type of thing. 

“I think I want to talk about it now. Like, if you have time.” 

“Liam,” Zayn’s saying please, and obviously, and you idiot, and I love you, all in one. “I’m putting my brushes away. Go for it.” 

Liam takes a deep breath, watches his feet walk over the large square tiles of the floor. One foot one square. “It shouldn’t matter what mum and Ruth, did. Not after what Lou and I had already talked about. Maybe even if we hadn’t gotten there. Because he’s never done anything but just… be my friend. I’m the one that kissed him.”

“Mhm.” But. 

“But also. He — he knew about it, the whole time. He must’ve known I’d find out. At some point. So when was he going to tell me? How was he going to tell me?” 

“Mmm. Well.”

“He was probably scared, I know,” Liam pauses by the glass partition with the metal banister that lets him look down to all four floors of the shopping centre, to the teeming masses below, the noise, the lights. “He could’ve been planning to tell me. Just waiting for the right time.” 

Liam’s turned on his phone just so he can talk to Zayn, and when they ring off he’s just going to shut it off again, he thinks. Because he knows there are messages lurking on it he’s not ready to read. 

“I keep thinking back. To what he said when we first met. About how he’d seen me and felt like having a little fun. I just… I wonder if that’s what he thought when he first heard about me. Just some loser, some fun to help with being bored.” 

“Liam —”

“Do you want to hear another stupid thing?” 

Zayn’s sigh is soft. “Always, babe. Tell me.” 

He lays his chin on his folded forearm, leaning into the cool of the metal railing. “What if we’d paired up? Dated, and done the whole thing?”

“Think you’d still be upset about this, like. Don’t think it being platonic or being romantic changes that.” 

“No, yeah, you’re right. I’d feel the same. But it’d like, it’d prove my mum right. Her plan would’ve worked. Louis could’ve taken the eighth chair.” 

“Nah babe, it wouldn’t have worked, would’ve ended up just like this. Louis would’ve had to tell you, somehow. Would’ve maybe hoped he had more time. Maybe even would’ve told you straight up, convinced you to go out with him anyway. He’s persuasive, right?”

“Yeah.”

“But the thing is, even if it did end up that way, you and Louis as a couple cause your mum and Ruth cooked something up, like — it wouldn’t prove anyone ‘right’ about you, not like that. Not the way you mean. You told me ages ago, before all of this, that you wanted them to take you at your word when you said that you’re fine and happy. So if that stays true, then that’s all there is. So, is it still true?” 

Liam sighs. “I — yeah. It is, but… I feel happy these days because of different things, in different ways. And I… I want to hold on to that.” 

“Because of Louis? And Niall, and Harry?” 

“And me. And me now, the Liam that’s friends with all of them, and with you, and his co-workers.” 

“You’re scared you’re changing but you’re just growing. Liam, with upgrades. Liam, with new mods. Liam, with a software update.” 

Liam giggles into the crook of his elbow, before the giggle turns into a groan. “I hate all this buffering, Zayn. It’s been three months, why does any of this matter?”

“Cause it does,” Zayn doesn’t even sound decisive, they just sound indulgent, like they’re playing along. “‘Fraid it sounds like you’re gonna have to talk to a bunch of people, babe.” 

“Urgh.” 

“Wanna do another walk around the shops? Let’s go smell some more candles, and we can make some plans.” 

“Urgh.” 

“That’s the spirit.” 

+

He means to avoid Niall until he speaks to Louis, but after everything it’s just easier to text him a sad face emoji and wait for him to knock. Niall doesn’t say anything when he gets let in, just swallows Liam with his open arms, pushing into all his nooks and and edges and basically cuddling him to feeling marginally better. After Liam pouts for 15 minutes, Niall detaches and gets his phone out to call for a curry, one hand steadily patting Liam’s thigh. Niall puts on Goodfellas, feeds and waters him, says goodbye to Ralph, then brings them to the door so he can hold Liam’s face with both hands, their foreheads touching. 

“I reckon don’t let it get past Wednesday, yeah? And make plans with Harry,” He smacks a kiss to Liam’s cheek. “Call me if you need anything. After this is sorted, you’re coming to the pub. On a weekday night. It’s happening. Night, Payno.” 

When Liam’s cleaning up in the kitchen, his phone buzzes with a text. 

_remember to call yr mum too! xox_

+

It gets to Thursday and he does none of these things. It’s a shitty week at work, and as good as that is as an excuse for shelving everything else, Liam is over it. He hits the gym hard after clocking off, just to push it that much further, just to make sure that when he’s home all that will be left is bed. Sleep. 

At home, Harry’s on his doorstep. Liam stares. Harry unfolds himself from where he’s sitting to stand up, holds his phone up too, a little sheepish. 

“Went by your work, but you’d already left. So, I uh… did you know me and Zayn are friends on Instagram? And I know that’s creepy, but you’ve been avoiding me, and I’ve been worried, so I thought… I’d just check that you’re okay.”

Liam winces. He had cancelled on Harry on Sunday with a single text and nothing since. He could’ve done better than that, but he didn’t. Harry’s still standing there, one hand clutching the strap of his backpack, his feet pigeon-toed like he’s nervous. 

“Do you want to come in? I can… try and explain a few things.”

“Yeah, if that’s alright.” 

Liam unlocks his front door, walks in to turn the lights on, Harry shuffling in close behind him. He’s exhausted, but he tries to stifle a yawn as he turns to Harry. “You can put your bag down, do you want a glass of water?” 

Harry frowns at him, and seems to consider his options before he steps closer to Liam, a hand gently cupping Liam’s chin to peer into his face, frown growing deeper. “You look dead on your feet, have you had any dinner?” 

Liam doesn’t use his kitchen often. Not in any remarkable way, at least. There’s his Batman mug drying by the sink, his Coco Pops next to a box of tea bags, and the spice rack that mostly has pepper and oregano. Seeing Harry here, moving seamlessly from fridge to cupboard to stovetop, just like he’d done at Nick’s, is remarkable. The grace of him sprinkling salt, chopping, stirring, humming just under his breath. Turns out Harry had brought supplies in his bag. Every available surface of the kitchen counters is covered in cookware Liam’s never seen, and it’s… nice. It fills the place up in a way that fills Liam’s attention too, that keeps the tension of the past few days sidelined as he watches Harry’s movements, smells and steam filling the air. He lifts himself up to sit on the counter and let his limbs go soft, elbows on knees, wrists hanging loose. He settles in, zoning out, until suddenly Harry’s in front of him, fingertips a light touch on his knee. 

Harry looks so different from the person he met in the park, but it’s mainly because he’s still frowning, and instead of the endearing klutz that hit his own face with an apple, he’s the maestro that’s just made Liam a plate of puttanesca. Liam reaches out with three fingers and pushes gently on the wrinkles in the middle of Harry’s forehead, which makes them deepen even more. 

“Food’s ready, if you still want to eat,” he mumbles, taking Liam’s hand and holding it in his. Briefly, too fast too soon, Harry sways a little closer towards Liam, eyes so intent on his face, but he swerves away, turns and steps away to pick up the plate. 

Liam gets lead to the couch to eat his dinner, which he does pretty much on automatic. Harry watches him to make sure he gets the first few bites down, then leaves him to it in favour of looking around, of peering at Ralph with his hands politely clasped behind his back, of running a tentative hand over the strings of Liam’s guitar, of looking at Liam’s photos on the wall. 

The more Liam eats, the more awake he feels. The more alert he becomes to Harry’s presence in his flat, to the memory of the last time someone’s had to sweep in and feed him before he fell on his face. The pasta is delicious, and he finishes every bite. 

When he brings the plate back to the kitchen, Harry’s scrubbing a pot in the sink. 

“Harry — I can’t believe you made me dinner. Thank you.” 

“You’re welcome. You feeling a bit better?” Liam’s not said really two words about what’s been going on, but he nods at Harry, at his persistent concern, and finds he means it. His brain works to process what happened over the weekend in an easy enough way to tell Harry, and he realizes there’s not even anything to tell. He’s gonna call Louis. He’s gonna call his mum. That should be it. He’s had his sulk, and nothing’s really changed. 

Harry dries off his hands after he washes the last of the dishes, and Liam realizes he’s packing up to go, and Liam’s just been staring at him. 

“You’re going?” 

“I figured — you’re probably ready for bed, I’m going to get out of your hair,” He’s shouldering his bag and moving to the door, and Liam’s dumbly following after, his body moving at different speeds, everything too fast and too slow to make sense of Harry here, Harry so close, Harry leaving. 

“I’m sorry I cancelled on Sunday,” he blurts out as Harry reaches for the door. “I was having a bad weekend, after I called you, but I should’ve just said. Should’ve called.” 

Harry nods, biting lightly on the corner of his bottom lip. “I appreciate that. And yeah, you should’ve just said, would’ve been fine. I’d thought it was because I was too grumpy about the weather.” One side of Harry’s mouth picks up, and Liam returns it three-fold. He doesn’t really want Harry to leave now, heavy as his eyelids still are. 

“Can we see each other again soon?” 

The question, the sweetness of it, the earnest openness — it makes Liam’s organs feel like they’re floating, like he’s crested the peak of a rollercoaster. He’s nodding, yes, of course, yes, I’m sorry I’m an idiot I’m just waking up to a few things, and then his feet are carrying him to to Harry, he finally lets his hands go into that curly hair, and he’s bringing the sweet moue of Harry’s lips to his. Harry’s body reacts immediately, his hands pulling Liam in by the waist, keeping him there, his mouth slanting a little sideways, a soft moan buried in the move. 

It’s everything at once. Kissing Louis had been about finding other ways to touch him, finding other ways to say ‘Hey, I’m glad you’re here.’ Kissing Harry now feels just like saying hello, hello, hello, like opening a door, like finding a whole house of rooms to explore. ‘I’m glad you’re here, I’m glad I’m here, I didn’t know before.’ Liam dares to deepen the kiss, fingers tightening in Harry’s curls, and he’s fizzy and awake, like he can feel every nerve ending. 

Their breaths mingle warm when Harry pulls back just enough, his eyelids heavy to open. Liam looks at his red mouth, darts in quick to press a kiss to the corner of his lips, feels it stretch into a smile while he’s there, like a spill taking over Harry’s whole face. Harry’s eyes are still closed and his voice comes from low and deep, a husky whisper.

“If that was to make sure I come back, I can tell you it was highly unnecessary.” 

He laughs before Liam does, at his own bloody joke, so Liam has to duck in and kiss his cheek again, pushing in against those dimples, deepening even now. 

“Was for the pasta,” Liam murmurs, pressing closer to Harry, sighing when he wraps an arm around him, “Was for flying pigs. Been wanting to do that since Saturday.” 

Harry finally opens his eyes, and the frown returns, and Liam freezes, panic tingling in his gut. Harry brings a hand up to Liam’s collarbone, up his neck, sweeping along his jaw, one thumb tapping thoughtfully at Liam’s bottom lip. 

“Are you saying we could’ve been doing this for whole _days_ before this?” 

Liam’s laugh is relief and joy and a punch drunk bone-tiredness seeping back into him. Harry holds him up, holds him close, kisses him again, softer, shorter, sweeter. 

“Come by on Saturday. We’ll have an indoor picnic. I won’t cook anything, but I’ll get the food.” 

“Okay, Liam.” 

Eventually they disentangle, Harry shouldering his bag again, they get the door open to let him out. Liam clutches at the door frame, lets it steady him when Harry sways back for a last peck, whole body loosened. 

“I’ll see you Saturday.” 

“I’ll see _you_ Saturday.” 

“Okay, Harry.” 

“Good night.” 

Liam smiles at Harry heading off, how he’s still half turned towards him, basically walking backwards. Their dopey smiles must match each other's. 

“Good night, Harry.” 

+

Liam begs off work with a fake flu, except Cazza’s more than happy to give him the day off anyway and very nearly sends Jade over with soup. He begs off soup, with some regret, and gets on a train to see Louis. Last night after Harry had left, he’d managed one text out before finally succumbing to sleep, and woken up to Louis saying he’d be working but Liam was free to come over. 

The Duttas live in a clean and quiet neighbourhood, their house not too big, but with a lovely front yard blooming with flowers. The doorbell chimes a special tune, and he can hear an excited shriek inside, before the door opens to Louis, face pinched and tentative, and Danny on his hip, with the widest eyes and smile you’ve ever seen, clapping at the sight of a new stranger. 

They say quick hellos before Danny commandeers Liam, shows him all his toys, all his sister’s toys, all the new drawings they’ve done stuck up to the play room wall. Liam makes sure his enthusiasm for all these things is equally vocal, going ‘Wow’ over and over, holding everything he’s given. Louis hovers close by, helps when Danny can’t reach something, fills in a memory when he forgets, doesn’t look at Liam. 

Danny’s repeating himself and his tour when Liam pulls out the colouring books and crayons he’d gotten before he left, and Louis sets him up at the family’s breakfast nook so they can watch him from the living room. 

Louis sets them up with two cups of tea, and they sit on opposite ends of the sofa. Liam can tell Louis is scared, from the way he’s perched on the edge of the cushions, hands secure around his cup but ready to flee. He frowns down at the steam coming off his tea, chewing on his words. 

“Lou. Let me start, yeah?” He startles, but he nods, setting his cup down on the coffee table. It’s unnerving to have Louis be this quiet, the only other sound being the hum of the refrigerator and Danny singing softly to himself in the other room. He’s softer round the edges here, Liam can tell. Softer around Danny, but more worried, more alert. 

“You were going to tell me,” It’s not a question. Liam might’ve known this since he spoke to Zayn, earlier even, but today he can say it as what it is, a fact. “I know you were.” 

Louis inhales, sharp, before exhaling one long breath. “‘Course I was, Liam. I wanted to tell you so much earlier than all this. Thought if I’d done it early enough we could’ve even laughed about it. It got harder the more I didn’t do it, then we were proper friends, and it felt like if I told you…” Louis pauses, looks up at Liam. “I meant what I said the other night. Didn’t get here on a lie, I swear it.” 

Liam nods. “Can you tell me what meeting my mum and my sister was like? How’d it happen?” 

“Well, it was Maya first — that’s Danny’s mum. She’d heard about you through the owner of this bakery, who’d heard about you through Ruth, and Maya was laughing about it — setting us up — but she was also encouraging it. Thought it’d be romantic. Passed this baker my number and next I know I’m getting texts from your sister.” 

“Oh God. What’d she say?” 

“Described you. Said you worked in marketing, lived in the city. Said you hadn’t dated anyone in a while. Said you were sweet, that you liked music, that you were shy.” 

Liam groans, feels like he’s in school again, when his older sisters would try to help him make friends by talking to the people in his year. “This is mortifying, but go on.” 

“So, she said if I wasn’t seeing anyone, and if I was around in the neighbourhood where you worked, or whatever. She kept it casual.” 

Ruth would’ve. Mum wouldn’t. 

“Mum said she met you?”

Louis grimaces. “Few days after that they were around and asked me out for tea. I… about 80% of why I went was for the free food, to be honest. Wages hadn’t come in yet.” He’s sheepish about it in a way he wouldn’t be if he didn’t think Liam was mad at him, and it makes Liam grin a little. 

“And the other 20%?” 

“Plain curious, I suppose.” Louis shrugs. “Dunno if you know this, Liam, but your family are stupid in love with you, they really talked you up. Then your mum took out pictures —”

“Okay, no. I’ve heard enough.” 

Louis’s smile flickers to life, “Your mum, lovely as she is, has no concept of setting people up, because they were all baby photos.” 

“Oh my god.”

“It was bloody adorable. Probably what sold me, I’ll admit.” Louis’s voice is teasing, which makes Liam feel relieved, but his eyes still look a little hunted, wary. He’s being so careful. 

“So, then what?” 

“I tried not to commit to anything. Said I’d think about it, that I wasn’t sure I’d even have the time. Couple nights later, Ruth texts me and tells me you’re in Tesco, and I’m at home, and I just thought, fuck it. Let’s go see.” Louis blushes, and picks up his teacup with a fierce kind of nonchalance, as if he can pretend his body isn’t giving him away. “Followed you around a bit while I was there, before I got up the guts to talk to ya. Not my proudest moment, slinking by the cereals.” 

Liam picks at a loose thread in his jeans, scared of what comes after that. “And then what?” 

Louis shifts in his seat. “After we said goodbye, I messaged Ruth. Told her I’d met you, that you were half asleep and that I learned you liked burgers. It was kind of… we didn’t ever really talk about it after that first time. She sent me some emojis, told me to have a good night. Every couple of weeks after she’d check in, ask how I was, how you were. I’d answer, ‘cause I didn’t know how not to answer. That had been the extent of it, though. Then Saturday night she calls me, tells me that Karen’d told you.” 

“I was upset.” 

“You were upset. And I wanted to call, straight away. Except I’d pick up the phone and stand there like an idiot. Didn’t know where to start. Niall yelled at me about it on Sunday, been pestering me since.” 

Liam laughs at that, but it’s absent. “Wouldn’t have picked up anyway. Lou.” 

“Yeah?” 

“Was this what you meant when you said you weren’t sure you wanted to get into it? The other night?” 

Louis makes an exasperated noise, and it’s about then Liam realizes it’ll be okay. “I mean, partially. But also, like — I’m not interested in you like that. Had enough reasons to want to keep hanging out with ya without getting kissing and the rest of that into it.”

Liam nods at that, satisfied. That’s everything, then, isn’t it? “Can we have a cuddle, please?” 

“Idiot.” But Louis moves forward faster than Liam, his grip tightened by relief. “Were you mad at all, or did you just want to see me sweat?” He murmurs this into Liam’s shoulder, a joke that’s not at all a joke. Liam rubs his back. 

“Was mad for about a second.” 

“Are we okay?” 

“We’re good, Lou.” 

They pull away after another minute, Louis surreptitiously and quickly pawing at his eyes, getting up to get their cups and to check on Danny. Liam joins him in the kitchen after complimenting Danny on his choice to colour all the flowers black. 

“You’ll have to stay for dinner, Maya’d kill me if I didn’t ask.”

“I’d love to.” 

“You and Ruth and your mum…? Everything okay there?” 

Liam takes the cups from Louis to wash them. “It’s going to be, yeah. You’re going to have to come for dinner, too, I think. Do it proper.” 

“Hah! Yeah. Closure and all that. You sure you’re alright to stay? I’m going to have to pick up Kavi in a bit, then it’s going to be N A P T I M E and it’s gonna be a bit hectic.” 

Liam smiles — he can’t think of a better way to spend the day. “I’m good to stay, Lou. Besides, I have to tell you about how I kissed Harry.” 

Louis’s hand is quick to punch him on the arm, before messing up his hair. “Way to divert from the important matters, Payno.” 

“Louis wants to kiss Niall,” comes a clear, sure voice from the breakfast nook ten steps away, Danny’s voice almost reciting the words like he’s said them before. 

Louis’s jaw goes rigid and his face beet red, and Liam has to hide under the breakfast table when he can’t stop laughing, Danny’s legs swinging wildly beside his head while Louis pelts him with plastic blocks, calling on Danny to bring more ammunition. 

+

He wakes up early Saturday morning, and makes the trek to his parents for breakfast, texting Ruth and asking her to meet him there. Mum nervous-cooks about four rashers of bacon (one each) and entirely too many eggs. Liam eats as many as he can stomach, and then he tells them that he won’t be coming to dinner tonight because he’s got other plans. With the person he’s seeing. That he’d appreciate if there were no more schemes to set him up with fit nannies, or bankers, or bakers. That he’s got that covered. He’ll bring Louis and Niall to dinner soon, he says. And maybe Harry a little after that. Liam tells his mum he loves her, tells Ruth the same, and that it wasn’t nice to be lied to, and that there’s no need to cry. There’s sorrys and promises and he accepts them. Maybe leverages on the guilt to lock down a promise for them not to ask about his love life for a while. He lets himself be held and cried on by both of them, Geoff patting him on the back while he’s accosted, off to read the paper in peace. He stays until after his second cup of tea, kisses them both goodbye. 

When he gets on the train to head back, building a list in his head for the things he needs to get to see Harry later, a text comes through as the sun shines noon behind the clouds, eager. There’s everything to smile about on a day like this. 

_Morning :) Want me to bring anything for later? Can’t wait to see you. x H_


End file.
